Colors of a Lady (10 page)

“You are very wise, Hartwell. I think that
is a capital idea! I must apologize for keeping this all from you.
We found it our only option. With the political climate as it is
matters like these are best kept within the family. Despite what
her blood may say, Emma is our daughter. At last, you shall finally
be a son to me.”

“We are lucky indeed the ton is so willing
to accept what is told to them.”

“Quite lucky.” Lord Sheridan cuffed the
Marquess on his shoulder, chuckling happily. “Constance will not
like this, but she will manage. I will try to reign her in on the
guest list. Meanwhile, I know you have aided in some
investigations. Do you think you have a friend who could look into
the matter of my brother?”

“Of course! I have already contacted a
friend in regards to Lady Wren, but he will surely help in this
too.”

“Excellent. Now, I am sure you wish to
inform Emma of these developments. I do not know how she has taken
this news...perhaps you could inquire?” He looked to him
expectantly.

“That was my intent.” Lord Hartwell rose to
his feet and left the room. The earl let out a deep sigh in the
ensuing silence. It was not often he found the quiet disturbing.
Tonight, it provided too much time for thinking. The countess’
steady stream of chatter would soothe him.

Constance Wren, Countess of Sheridan, stared
at her younger daughter who was standing near the window. She had
not spoken a word since Henry had revealed the circumstances of her
birth. She wondered if Emma thought her mother had treated her
differently because of this. That was not the case.

Emma, with her olive skin, would always need
to appear more polished, more elegant and wealthier than the other
girls of the ton. They would find a suitable husband with ease by
batting their fair lashes. This was the way of the world. She did
not want to see her daughter fall behind. Even if she had not given
birth to her, Emma was her daughter.

She knew she had been too hard on her. But
it was for her own good.

“Mama, what do you think will happen?”
Caroline appeared at her mother’s side.

“It may be a scare tactic. Maybe someone
will reveal it. I had hoped Emma would never learn the truth. I
fear it further complicates her life.”

“I am happy to know,” Emma spoke up. “I have
always felt a keen feeling of exclusion. I am at least pleased to
know it was not my adolescent ennui.”

“Emma dear, I hope you know that I have not
been stern with you because I did not want you.”

“Oh mother, that was not even a thought in
my mind,” Emma admitted. “I am more thankful for all you have done.
You are the only mother I have ever known.”

Constance’s heart twinged at the sweet smile
Emma tossed back to her. There was grief that fed on her soul
daily, gnawing away until she felt nothing. That smile helped to
soften the ache.

“I must say, Emma, you are taking this
supremely well,” said Caroline, peering closely at her sister. That
girl was fully capable of tears and tantrums. She appeared
perfectly calm as if they were discussing the weather.

“Somehow, dearest sister, I have begun to
recapture myself. This explains the kink in my hair and the pigment
of my skin.” She paused fingering a stray tendril. Her hair felt
coarse. How many nights had she cried out in desperation wanting
the smooth locks that graced her sister's head?

“Lord Hartwell,” announced Lewis. He stepped
to the side allowing the Marquess to enter the room. He appeared
distracted, tugging on his hair. She watched him in the window's
reflection.

“I hope I am not interrupting. May I speak
with Emma in private? I understand it is wildly inappropriate.

Emma was eager to accompany Thomas on a
short sojourn. Her eyes darted to her mother. She deferred to her
for a reply.

“After this evening, I dare say a quick walk
will be quite refreshing.” She flicked her gaze to Thomas. “Do
behave yourself, Lord Hartwell,” she warned.

“Thank you, Lady Sheridan. I am ever in your
debt.” He bowed to Caroline and Constance. “Shall we?”

In a nearly empty box in Convent Garden sat
Nathaniel Vale. Where ion God's green earth were his theatre
partners? He had a permanent invitation to the Kellaway box, which
was used by both the Kellaway clan and the Sheridan clan. But, not
a single one of them were present that evening.

He sat through the dreadful play with no
company. It was impossible to hear anything with the heckling from
the general public. Not that anyone truly came to sit and enjoy the
acting and the sets. It was, as everything else, a social
gathering. The perfect time to see the people one so intimately met
throughout the Season.

Nathaniel could not even remember the name
of whatever it was he was supposed to be watching. He remembered
calling upon Emma yesterday who revealed herself to be “absolutely
thrilled” to see it. Her chair was empty. Not one of them had the
decency to forewarn him of their absence. Frightfully rude of
them.

At least His Grace of Kellaway had one of
the best boxes in the theatre. It was perfectly situated to look
upon the rest of the boxes and even the general audience. There
were ladies in glittering gowns flanked by men in their sharp
evening coats. He easily spotted the new Lady Carradine, sitting
conspicuously alone.

Though alone, she preened like a peacock at
the forefront of everyone's attentions. Her resplendent crimson
gown lent her a sultry air, her alabaster bosom nearly tipping from
her bodice. A lover of fine jewels, she accented with large rubies
at her throat and ears. Lady Carradine was, without a doubt, the
finest beauty in the ton. Tonight, she had taken great pains to
appear even grander. Those poor debutantes in their milky muslins
had no hope tonight.

Nathaniel readily realized that she sought
to impress someone. Likely a man. One that had not appeared to the
play. Her opera glass had been trained on his box for most of the
first act. Her fixation earned no rewards. He was still absent.

The former Miss Loring had set her cap at
Thomas when she first batted her ocean-blue eyes at him. He was
decidedly against any entanglement with her, finding her to be
tiresome. She did not let such a paltry reason stop her. Her dogged
determination when it came to conquests was legendary. Nathaniel
was unsure if winning Lord Hartwell could ever satisfy her.
Considering her married state and his affianced state, he assumed
the countess desired an affair. The idea was preposterous.

It was apparent to every member of the ton
that the handsome Marquess of Hartwell was falling horridly in love
with Lady Emma Wren. Whispers followed the pair through every
society activity. Thomas was normally a reserved man even in the
throes of his passion for Caroline. But there was an unmistakable
spring in his step when he was with Emma. The joyful note in his
voice was a departure from his cordial tones. Some debutantes had
even whispered that there was a ready smile reserved only for his
future bride. The matrons sniffed at any mention of love. The
debutantes swooned. Nathaniel found the whole matter sickening.

He was no stranger to love, having fallen
victim to Cupid's wily arrow. The only difference being he was not
happily engaged to his love. There were no objections to the
entanglement, but...

“Lord Hedgeton, why are you so alone?” The
merry voice boomed through the empty box, stirring Nathaniel from
his reverie. Ever thick as thieves, Helena and Lettice appeared in
the doorway, arm-in-arm.

“Good evening, Lady Helena, Miss Lettice, at
last I have some company!”

“Where is everyone? It’s unlike Emma to skip
the theatre,” Lettice wondered aloud.

“Perhaps she wished to avoid the odious Lady
Carradine. She has made quite the negative impact upon the ton. Not
that it matters. Even the ire of all the matrons would do little to
impede her position,” Helena added, wrinkling her nose.

“Lord Carradine isn’t a bad chap, he just
inherited an earldom and somehow Lady Carradine found him just in
time. Quite the elevation for her. I would say her attitude is the
result of ill-breeding, but her family is quite respectable.”

“Oh yes! Lord Hartwell and you encountered
her on the Continent. We heard from Emma because she interrupted
them at Almack’s the other night.”

“How absolutely divine! The spurned would-be
lover is out to sabotage the Marquess’ engagement. That would make
a wonderful play!” Lettice exclaimed as she clapped her hands
together in excitement.

“Dear Lettice, it is dreadful, not divine.
Poor Emma. I do wonder, though, why everyone is gone.”

“It is too late to call on them, so I
suppose we will have to wait until the morning to hear the reason
of their absence.” Nathaniel watched the two ladies as they agreed
with his statement. He was sure Helena was considering ways to
circumvent the rules of society and visit at such an advanced hour.
There was not a reason to do so unless some terrible event had
transpired.

The redhead noticed the earl’s attention.
Her eyes flickered momentarily to his gaze before settling happily
on the lush carpet. She felt her cheeks begin to burn and hated
that she blushed so easily. How she longed for Emma’s complexion
that rarely showed her own embarrassment unless one was familiar
with her contours of her face.

Lettice raised an eyebrow, eyes darting
between the two. The pair quite infuriated her even with her
obsession with all matters of romance. It mainly dealt with her
relegation to being a makeshift chaperone to their torrid love.
They danced around each other’s feelings, neither being willing to
confess first.

She, too, knew that dread emotion. That man
with the beautiful vision for the world. She loved him deeply. He
was too involved in his glorious work to pay a mere girl like her
any mind. There was also the matter that he was in trade. A
marriage to such a man would be impossible. And so, Lettice would
pine until she breathed her last breath. Surely, they would be
joined together in heaven. Is that not what she had been taught all
these years?

According to society, Nathaniel should be
the one to crumble first and approach her father to ask for
Helena’s hand in marriage. No such event had transpired. Lettice
admonished them both daily, begging Nathaniel to seek out her
father and insisting to Helena that she should flirt with others to
incur his jealousy. She staunchly refused and so Lettice was
subjected to this torture nearly every day.

“I promised Lady Worthing that I would pay
her a visit during the intermission, and I cannot break a promise.
Please excuse me.” With a half-hearted curtsy and a dramatic eye
roll, Lettice departed. She left two embarrassed lovers in her
wake.

“I do believe Lettice has grown tired of
us,” Helena said softly.

“As I have grown tired of Hartwell and Emma
and their moony eyes.”

“Oh yes, they are worse, by far. We are
charming in our avoidance.” She heaved a sigh and looked directly
at Nathaniel. “My father is keen on betrothing me to Lord Percy
Worthing.”

“He is a, ahem, fine choice for a husband,”
Nathaniel managed. He avoided her glare. “Interesting chap. I am
sure you would get on well.” That was a bloody lie. Percy Worthing
was a scoundrel.

“Is that so? I shall tell him to accept
then.” Helena turned on her heel, stalking from the box with not so
much as a glance back.

Lord Hedgeton did not seem concerned. She
was certainly bluffing, wasn’t she? Even those girls newly out were
aware of Lord Worthing's proclivities. She would not
dare...right?

Lettice had not yet traveled far when a man
blocked her path. He was in the dusty garb of a servant. His
calloused, dirt-streaked hands were clenched around a crumpled
note. He shoved it towards the blonde. She backed away with a
squeal, catching a whiff of his musty odor.

She abhorred the poor. They could only be
made acceptable if they were noblemen in disguise. At least then
there would be no dirt beneath fingernails. She only liked
well-bred Englishmen. The influx of foreigners distressed her to no
end. Why could they not go back to their homes? The English were
heavily colonizing these places in hopes of civilizing them. She
believed they were beyond help, having been so far from the Lord.
But, her love was helping them find their way to heaven. Someone
people found fault with his methods. They were right fools.

~

“It is freezing,” Emma muttered, shortly
after they stepped outside. Her feet were already damp from the
steadily falling snow. Despite her discomfort, she had to admit the
scenery was very grand. Snow fell quietly against the pristine
facades of Mayfair. With the dim glow of the lamplight obscuring
most business on the street, she hoped Thomas would steal another
kiss. She was awfully selfish to be even considering such matters
after the evening’s events.

Love made one stupid, she decided. She could
not be counted upon to conduct herself in a sane manner. Thomas was
far too glorious for her to behold and keep her wits sharp. Her
heart soared high in the sky in his presence.

“I do wish I could control the weather, dear
Emma, but I cannot. I promise this shall not take long,” the
Marquess assured her, tucking her hand closer to the warmth of his
body.

“I must say, Thomas, I am very surprised you
did not choose to end our engagement,” she said. Her voice was
flecked with mingling confusion and delight.

“It was a simple decision. I care for you
deeply. To that end, I have grown accustomed to picturing you as my
wife. I find that no one else will suffice.”

Caring is not loving, she reminded herself.
But it was better than feeling only responsibility. Her silly heart
thumped wildly at his words, willing him to speak more.