The Hopeless Hoyden (22 page)

             
How could he think her so unhinged as to fabricate a story about Cecil trying to kill her.  Just thinking about it fired her blood anew.  But now, Gabriel was no where in sight.

             
Fatalistically, Emily shrugged her shoulders and turned toward Tom. 

             
“We haven't had much chance to talk," he said.

             
They ambled among a row of roses, all in bloom, their sweet fragrances wafting toward them on a light breeze. 

             
“What do you want to talk about?" she asked cautiously.  It wasn’t often that Tom singled her out.  And when he did, it usually involved a lecture about something she’d done. 

             
“Nothing of real importance," Tom answered with a nervous laugh.  "You know, just a brother-sister coze."  Something was bothering him.  All the signs were there, his narrowed eyebrows, the ramrod straight back, the scuffing of his prized Hessian boots on the walkway.

             
Emily drew up short when a bee flew across her path, then eyed her brother with a knowing look.  “We have never cozed, Tom, only fought.  It is plain as pikestaff that something is on your mind.  So cut line and open your budget?"

             
“Shouldn't use cant, Em," he admonished her ruefully.  Clasping his hands behind his back, he kept his eyes straight ahead.  "I've been wondering what brought you here, Em?"                

             
“Gabriel asked me."

             
“That's it?"  His tone implied he didn't believe her.

             
“What brought you?" she countered.

             
He sheepishly faced her with a ruddy blush coloring his face and neck.  "Miss Burke-White."

             
Emily halted in her tracks.  “Prudence?"

             
“I met her at Lady Jersey's soiree toward the end of the Season, and we became friends." 

             
“But she is so quiet," was all Emily could think to say.

             
“She ain't a hoyden like you if that's your meaning," he shot back with heat.  “Come to that, I thought it dashed queer that a Corinthian like Lindemann made you an offer."

             
“Well, he didn't exactly."

             
“What do you mean?"

             
“Oh, you know, it just sort of happened."  Emily kept her eyes fastened on a small folly in the distance.

             
“Spare the blushes, Em, and tell me what happened?"

             
From his tone, Emily figured she was in for it.  “Oh pooh, what does it matter?"

             
“It matters, Em."  He threw her a suspicious look.  “By Jupiter, if Lindemann compromised you... I'll bloody well call him out."

             
“No, Tom, he did no such thing.  If anything, it was I who compromised him."

             
Tom stared at her for several seconds, his mouth agape.  Then he slammed the flat of his palm against his forehead.  “Damn, Em, you got to be daft, though I should have guessed.  It didn't add up that Lindemann, who could have his pick of the Marriage Mart, settled for you."

             
Crossing her arms under her bosom, she glowered at him.  “What do you know about anything?"

             
“I know you, and you're no diamond of the first water."

             
Her arms dropped to her side, and she stomped her foot.  “Oh, you...you horrid beast!"

             
“Now don't go off on me, Em."  He held up two hands as if that would ward off her anger.  “You said yourself, this whole thing ain't on the up and up."

             
Emily's shoulders slumped as her eyes pleaded with him.  “What am I going to do, Tom?"

             
“Keep close as an oyster for one, Em.  Can't let this cat out of the bag."

             
“But he does not want to be leg-shackled to me."

             
“Can't say as I can blame the man."               

             
His words wounded her, but though he was her brother, she was too proud to let him see her cry.  Instead, she ground her heel in the dirt as she pivoted to retrace her steps.

             
“Look, Em."  Tom reached out a hand to stay her. “If this leaks out, it's bound to hurt my chances with the Burke-Whites, and they're starchier than my shirt points.  The thing's done and the Viscount's a regular gentleman.  He won't go back on his word.  The best thing is for you to accept it."  He put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her to his side.  “Besides, Em, you'll never get a better offer."

             
“Ohhh, you can go to the devil, Thomas Pendleton."  She pushed against his chest and whirled out of his arm.  Kicking her flounces up with her heels, she strode angrily back to the house.

             
Tom was two steps behind her.  “Blast it, Em.  Don't go and cry off.  Lindemann's in the Four-in-Hand Club.  He can put me up for membership," he called after her.

             
Emily ignored his plea and sped up, and he soon lost interest in the chase before she even reached the terrace.  If she were like all the other debutantes, she'd do as Tom said and count herself lucky that she'd nabbed a Viscount.  The only hitch was she loved her Viscount to distraction, a love that wasn't returned.  She feared making a fool of herself once he knew the truth, for there was no way she could hide her feelings forever.  Her best bet, she decided, was to confront her betrothed and break the engagement.  At this time of day, Gabriel would more than likely be in his study.  So, she rounded the salon door, heading out into the hall, and literally ran into Deborah.

             
“There you are," the lovely brunette laughed nervously while trying to peer around Emily into the salon.  “Who is in there?"

             
“No one."

             
“Oh.  Well, I came to tell you Lady Spivey and the others are in the library."

             
“Thank you," Emily replied.  But Deborah continued to stand in front of Emily as though she were waiting for something.  Emily gave her a vague, wondering smile.

             
Deborah took the hint.  “Since the gentlemen go to Cheltenham tomorrow, plans are being made for the ladies to make a day of it in Winchombe.  We are waiting for your input."

             
“My input?” Emily asked incredulously.               

             
“Yes.”

             
“Oh pooh!"  Emily said disgustedly.  She knew a whisker when she heard one.  Fact was, Aunt Esmeralda breathed a sigh of relief every time she entered a room and found her goddaughter wasn't there.

             
“No, really, Emily.  You are a local, you know the area.  Besides, since you will be my cousin-in-law soon, I wish to know you better."               

             
Emily would have sworn Deborah choked on those words.  It seemed odd that Deborah would have forgotten, much less forgiven Emily for rescuing Freddy from the scheming witch's clutches.  But Emily wasn't mean-spirited and was willing to give it a go.  “All right, I will join you shortly."

             
“Why not now?"

             
“I need to find Gabriel and talk to him first."

             
“I can help you find him." 

             
One look at Deborah's determined expression told Emily she would not be able to talk to Gabriel with any degree of privacy.  “Oh, I can talk with him later." Emily said, walking toward the drawing room.

###

              Cecil was in a foul mood the next morning as he glanced about the empty corridor.  He quickly made his way to Deborah's bedroom, knocked on the door, and entered to see his sister sitting among a bank of fluffy pillows, a cup of steaming hot chocolate raised to her lips.  In the middle of the room was her maid, with a celestial blue gown over one arm, headed for the door to answer his knock.

             
“Cecil!  How you startled me, barging in, unannounced like this," Deborah said before instructing her maid, "Put that one back, Marie.  I will wear the yellow cambric today."

             
“Get out," Cecil growled at the maid, causing her to jump.  When the young girl turned to her mistress for confirmation, he repeated, “Out, now."

             
Deborah studied her brother's forbidding features before waving one hand at the maid.  “Go on, Marie.  I will ring when I need you." 

             
Once they were alone, she leveled Cecil with a cold stare.  “What is so urgent that you must invade my bedchamber and order my servant out."

             
Cecil began languidly walking about the room with his eyes hooded, appearing to notice nothing of interest.  “I need a favor, my dear."

             
“Whatever you desire, Cecil, as I am sure you would be only too happy to do the same for me."  Her accusing glare belied her sweet tone and coy smile.

             
“Save your games for Fordyce or MacLeod.  If our little endeavor is to succeed, you'll do exactly as I say."

             
“There is no need to get nast--"

             
“Then don't expect me to play along."               

             
Deborah shifted uneasily under his scrutiny.  Cecil rather enjoyed seeing her squirm.  Her ridiculous seduction of Fordyce had angered him, especially since it was Emily Pendleton who had foiled his sister's scheme.  Now, there was no time to waste. 

             
“I need you to deliver a note to Anslow," he said without preamble.

             
“Where?  How?"  She sounded doubtful.

             
“Today, when the ladies go to Winchcombe.  You can figure the logistics out yourself.  But it shouldn't be too hard for you to slip away from the other ladies while shopping without causing comment."

             
“Why don’t you send your man?”

             
“Too risky.  The fewer who know our plans the better.”

             
Deborah hesitated, biting her lower lip.  “And how will I know this Anslow?"

             
“He's taken a room at No. 12 King Street in Winchcombe.  Lindemann's reserved a private parlor at the White Lion for luncheon.  It's but a few blocks away.  I've even drawn a map in case you find the directions too complicated," he said sarcastically before passing her a note, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and neatly folded with a diagram sketched on it.

             
“That is all?”  A look of profound relief crossed her face.

             
Cecil gave a low, evil chuckle.  “Were you expecting me to have you pull the trigger—“

             
“Stop!”  Her hands flew up to cover her ears.

             
In two strides, Cecil covered the distance between them, grabbed her wrists and yanked them down. “What’s this?  You want to share in the spoils but have no wish to dirty your pretty hands.  Mark this, sister mine.  You will do what I say when I say and without enacting any scenes.  Do you understand?”

             
The fear he read in her eyes as she solemnly nodded her head convinced him the last thing she’d do would be to cross him. 

             
“Good,” he drawled, letting go of her.  “Remember, do as you’re told, and you’ll be amply rewarded.”

###

              Emily awoke to another glorious, summer day.  A storm during the night had moved off to the northeast, leaving the countryside smelling clean and fresh.  At breakfast, she encountered the men in the front foyer, eager to get an early start for Cheltenham, the sight of the cockfight Freddy'd been crowing about for days.

             
Shortly after eleven, Emily watched Lady Raines and Aunt Esmeralda climb into the landau along with Prudence and Jane.  Sylvia and Deborah had elected to ride mounts like Emily but rode several yard ahead of the carriage with their heads together.  Emily kept Marabell at a placid pace with the carriage, but as time passed, it was clear that the older ladies were pointedly excluding her from their conversation. 

             
Since Jane would only peek guilty from under the brim of her bonnet, Emily decided to ride ahead and join the two younger women.  Sylvia, however, gave Emily a cursory glance while Deborah deigned to ignore her.  Deborah's neglect confused Emily, especially since the girl had gone to such pains the day before to befriend her.  Heaving a sigh of resignation, Emily tapped Marabell's flank with her riding crop, setting the mare to a rapid trot as she rode the rest of the distance alone, though still within sight of the others.