Colors of a Lady (7 page)

"You may be pleased to know that after our
marriage we will be spending some time on the Continent. I hope
that is amenable to you? I have some business that requires my
attention."

"The Continent? Where exactly? I have never
left England, so I suppose it matters not."

"We will be traveling to Rome and Vienna
among other places."

"That sounds wonderful!" Emma exclaimed,
clapping her hands together, "I have always wanted to travel. It is
perhaps trite of me to say, but I have read about so many places
that I want to visit. Now I shall have the opportunity!"

"I am pleased this excites you so."

Thomas could not reveal the true nature of
their visit to the Continent. For now, "business" would have to
suffice. She did not seem to care one whit about the reasons as
long as they were to leaves the shores of England.

For some women, the genteel life was
tiresome and full of too much idleness and too many familiar faces.
They found retiring to the country to be the best option offered.
Emma, he knew, longed for travel and had often spoken of the grand
adventures she would have. At least she did when she was five. The
sparkle in her eyes showed that she still felt the same.

Perhaps it was the romance of the moonlight
or the cold air that chilling him to his bones that caused his next
action. It could have even been the faintly feminine scent that
tickled his nose or the way her dimples deepened as her smile
widened. These could all be to blame. His sudden need to kiss her
amounted to little more than his own desire, unaffected by the
romance of the winter night.

“Lady Emma,” he murmured. She looked up at
him, still glowing.

“My lord, if you wish, you may call me by my
Christian name. I find Lady Emma too formal for you.”

“Just Emma then or can I make up a different
name.”

“Most usually call me Emma so that should
suffice.”

“...Emma...” he said carefully, testing the
unfamiliar name aloud. He had often thought of her in terms of
Emma. As a child, the name was often on his lips, shouting in
excitement or admonishing her gently. But to call her so without
her consent at such an age would be improper.

“Yes,” she replied. Emma inwardly breathed a
sigh of relief that he was more than happy to become more informal
with her. It pleased her almost as much as their post-wedding
travels.

“Then you must call me Thomas. It is only
fair.”

“I would be happy to, Thomas,” Emma
answered.

Thomas cleared his throat. His gloved hand
rose to rest upon her cheek. She leaned into it, letting out a
contented sigh. Thomas felt a stirring in his heart that he knew
too well to be infatuation. That was not love though. It would also
not be wise to voice these feelings. News of the scandal of
courting one sister and then betrothed to the other had died down.
The elopement of a nobleman with a maid was always more scandalous.
It still seemed too soon to reveal any feelings. Even if he found
himself falling victim to the most hated of all ton emotions: love.
Married nobility did not fall in love. But he could do something
else instead.

Emma's thoughts were running on a similar
strain. Having always been half in love with Thomas, her feelings
were growing and maturing daily from that silly child love into one
fully-bloomed and more confusing. Her mind was constantly and
annoyingly full of Thomas. From dawn until dusk and even her dreams
were littered with words he said, smiles he bestowed, the times she
made him laugh. He was everywhere. He came to call upon her every
day. He danced with her often. He bought her little trinkets. He
played the role perfectly. Emma was lost to love. She happily
allowed herself to be struck by Cupid's arrows. If only he had
gotten her fiancé too.

Emma’s chattering lips riveted the Marquess.
His thoughts could only form around how a kiss would surely warm
her up. What sort of person would he be to let his fiancée catch a
cold?

The answer was obvious. Thomas caressed her
cheek with his thumb. His free arm moved down to wrap around her
waist. She was shivering. The fabrics of women's clothing did
little to protect them against the harshness of an English
winter.

“You are chilled.”

“It is quite cold outside.” Emma was
confused though warm, so she was resigned to stay in his arms,
pressed close to him. They were engaged after all, so there was
little that could be said. The ton could talk, but it would be just
talk. Soon she would be the wife of a Marquess.

Then it happened. Thomas pressed his lips to
Emma's. They were dry from the wind, but soft.

Emma was shocked at the sudden affection.
She had never been kissed on a balcony before. Sure, in the
country, under some trees, during a Twelfth Night celebration. Who
had not? This felt different. Far more intimate. And colder, for
she had no cloak. But her body was warm. Thomas was warm. His lips
were on fire.

The kiss ended sooner than she would have
liked. She felt her body yearning for more. Emma opened her eyes
wide, hoping to see his gaze staring down at her. He head was
turned away towards the doors. She peered up at the line of his
jaw. He, like most men, was clean-shaven, but his dark hair
betrayed him and there was a hint of stubble.

Emma felt the strangest desire to remove her
glove and run her hand across the stubble on his cheeks and jaw.
She had never felt it before but she was sure it would be prickly.
Pulling herself from such thoughts, she followed Thomas' gaze to
whatever it was that interrupted them.

Whoever it was would be more precise.
Standing at the entranceway to the balcony was a person Emma was
certain she had never once laid eyes upon before. Taller and more
willowy than even Caroline, this woman was statuesque and wore the
Greek-inspired gowns well. Her skin was pearly white, the shade
that many women in the ton aspired to and often fell short of
obtaining. Her hair blue-black hair styled elaborately in twists
and knots dotted with diamonds. At this point she spoke, voice
accented and low.

“Lord Hartwell, what a surprise to see you
here.” She did not bother to make any excuses for her intrusion.
The woman also did not look at all surprised to encounter Thomas.
While his face had paled as if he had seen a ghost.

“I must say, Miss Loring, that I am far more
surprised.”

“It is Lady Carradine now, my lord.”

Carradine? Emma remembered the name from
Debrett's. It was an earldom and currently belonged to an elderly
gentleman, Lord Dudley Carradine. He was said to be without any
heirs. He had to be at least seventy as Emma had last heard. The
technicalities were not important right now. How did this woman
know Thomas?

“Sadly Lord Dudley Carradine passed away but
I married the new heir, Lord Edward Carradine. He is a distant
nephew of the late earl.”

“I thought I had heard something of the sort
about Lord Carradine dying. I am surprised to know he had a living
heir. Many thought the earldom would go back to the Crown.”

“Male relations have a way of popping up
once they can inherit an earldom,” Lady Carradine said simply with
a shrug of her shoulders.

Emma felt a violent shiver overtake her body
as a gust of wind hit them. It was really too cold to be conversing
on balconies with strange women. Thomas then took notice of his
fiancé.

“You are turning blue, Em—Lady Emma. I
should get you inside,” he stated worriedly. Emma nodded meekly
allowing him to lead her towards Lady Carradine.

“When you are done tending to your ward.
Perhaps you will join me in a dance.”

Emma pursed her lips at the jibe. Everyone
in London knew of Lord Hartwell's engagement. That was not vanity.
It was pure sense. Events in the ton spread like wildfire. Not only
did this woman feign ignorance, she also had the audacity to ask a
man to dance. That was simply not done, especially when a woman was
married. Emma felt so silly decrying this woman for her liberal
views. She herself found the rules suffocating. Yes, women gained
more freedom after marriage. To blatantly ask an affianced man to
dance was not one of the newly found freedoms.

A sudden and intense dislike for this
paragon overcame Emma and she stumbled. Thomas caught her placing a
hand on her waist. He smiled down at her.

“I am afraid my dances are all for my
betrothed now. May I introduce to you, my future bride, Lady Emma
Wren?”

Lady Carradine nodded coolly, an eyebrow
raised. She mustered out a curtsy. Though she currently outranked
Emma, in a matter of weeks, Emma would be above her. It would not
do to make enemies with a future Duchess.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Emma
Wren,” she greeted. Emma noted again that she made no effort to
apologize for her mistakes. What a slight. Thomas had previously
addressed her as a 'Miss', which meant she was not the daughter of
nobility. It is possible her father was a baronet or a knight or
just extremely wealthy. In any case, she was rude and neither
wealth nor beauty excused it.

“It is a pleasure for me as well, Lady
Carradine.” Thomas released her to a more appropriate distance as
they re-entered Almack's. The evening was winding to a close. Emma
took a deep breath, relishing in the empty expanse. It felt nice to
breathe and not inhale the particular musty scent of a dowager’s
gown.

“I wonder where my family has gone...” Emma
murmured, searching for them among the dwindling crowd. Normally,
her mother's flamboyant chartreuse turbans were a good guiding
point. She was not to be so helpful this evening.

“I can take you home in my coach, Emma.”

“I rather like that idea. You can tell me
all about your history with the illustrious Lady Carradine.”

“Ah...yes...” Thomas cleared his throat. “I
quite expected that. You do deserve an explanation after she was so
rude to you. It really is unforgivable, but she has always been
like that. She slights many people, yet she has friends in high
places and so it is always smoothed over.”

“Friends?” She began. “Or do you mean...”
her voice lowered to a whisper, “lovers?” Thomas halted mid-step at
her forwardness.

“We will discuss this is in the coach.” He
said instead of answering. They moved towards the doors where
servants were waiting with cloaks and hats. His valet spotted them
easily and arrived within moments with their cloaks.

“Thank you, James.”

“I will make sure the coach is ready.” He
bowed to them and walked off towards the door. Thomas placed Emma's
cloak around her shoulders before putting on his own.

“Warmer?” he inquired with a devilish
smile.

“I was perfectly warm outside, Thomas.” She
told him as she concentrated on adjusting the cloak around her
shoulders.

“As was I,” he agreed.”

“There is truly not much
to tell about how I know Lady Carradine. When I had first met her,
she was Miss Genevieve Loring, daughter of a wealthy man. To this
day, I have no idea what it is he does for a living. Whatever it
was, it kept them wealthy and on the Continent. That is where I met
Lady Carradine. I was perhaps eighteen and Nathaniel and I were on
our Grand Tour. We arrived in Belgium and met up with some
classmates. All they could talk about was this English heiress.
They described her as the most beautiful and alluring woman they
had ever seen in their lives.” Lord Hartwell paused in his
tale.

His fiancée found it impossible to smother
the unamused scoff that escaped her lips. Men were the greatest
fools in the world when it came to a pretty face. Like that
business with the Trojan War. To be fair, they were waiting for a
chance to start a war and Helen of Troy provided them an excellent
one. To run off with the handsome, albeit cowardly prince, of a
different land in an attempt to escape your older husband, was
brave. If not intolerably stupid. Emma could muse indefinitely on
the Greek myths, but now was not the time.

“Shall I continue?” Thomas inquired archly.
Emma gestured for him to continue. “When I first met Lady
Carradine, it was some months later in Vienna. She had already made
quite the name for herself in Vienna. Men lusted after her and as
you might have guessed, she was not one to turn away favours. This
is how I met her.” He stopped once more, gauging Emma’s face. There
was an ever so slight narrowing of her eyes, coupled with a firm
set of her mouth. “She sought my company, finding me quite
handsome.” There was a certain tinge of male pride in his voice
upon revealing this fact. Even if one was not interested in said
woman, a man could not help but be a little bit pleased at being
propositioned. “I rebuked her finding the whole matter off-putting.
Nevertheless, she did not give up and followed Hedgeton and I
around to many other cities. Finally, we left for England and I
never heard from her again.”

“Until

“Exactly, until tonight. She is newly
married and not much of a threat if that is what you are worried
about.”

Emma scoffed again. How presumptuous of him
to assume she was jealous! “I am not at all worried about this Lady
Carradine,” she replied. “I am vexed by her blatant disregard for
propriety.” She chuckled, amused at her own retort. “I sound like a
governess.”

“Yes, you would be more vexed with that than
anything else.” He agreed. Thomas was a little unsettled with Lady
Carradine’s arrival in London. She had sworn she would never come
back, but she had the protection of her husband and even the Prince
Regent. Perhaps that is why she felt safe enough to come home.
Here, she could happily break all rules with censure. How long
could she go on like this? It had been many years since they first
met and she was just as classless then as she was now. Her great
beauty excused most of her behaviour and if that did not work she
had the wealth and power. Rather, she knew people who could erase
any indiscretion. He hoped she would stay in England throughout the
Season so she would not bother him on the Continent.