Candice Hern (15 page)

"Thank you, miss," Sally said. She placed the epergne near one end of the long mahogany table. Before Emily could close the dining room door, another housemaid entered carrying an identical epergne, which she placed near the opposite end of the table. The two maids fussed briefly with their arrangements, then headed out the door, bobbing politely at Emily as they passed.

Emily surveyed the table, which was set for twenty. The china was a delicate Chinese export with the Bradleigh crest in the center. Several stemmed glasses of Irish crystal glistened at each setting, and the silver flatware shone as brightly as the epergnes. Even as she watched, a footman was giving a final polish to each setting. Emily checked the place cards. The seating arrangement had been specified by the dowager and owed nothing particular to rank. She was especially puzzled by the request to seat Lady Windhurst at the dowager's right, particularly considering her disdainful reaction to the woman two days ago. She sensed one of the dowager's schemes afoot.

Emily had earlier asked that she be excused from the dinner, as she did not wish to intrude on a family gathering.

"Oh, no, my girl," the dowager had replied, "you are definitely needed. Without you the numbers are uneven."

Emily knew, however, that Sir Richard Kingsley, one of the dowager's old beaus, had been included on the guest list specifically to even up the numbers. If Emily had been excluded, there would have been no need to invite Sir Richard. But she had kept her own counsel.

"Is everything in order, my dear?"

Emily turned to find the dowager strolling into the room.

"Yes, my lady," she replied. "I was just checking the place cards."

"Ah." The dowager wandered to the opposite side of the table. "You will have noticed, then, that I have placed you next to Lord Windhurst."

Emily's brows had shot up in surprise. "Me?" she asked, for she had not yet, in fact, noticed.

"Yes. And I want you to charm the fellow and take his measure. I'll work on his wife, and I've put Augusta next to Ted."

"The marquess?"

"Right. He is Lord Haselmere. His father, the fifth marquess, was the brother of Robert's mother."

"Is there some significance to seating him next to Augusta?"

"We shall see, my dear," the dowager replied. "We shall see."

* * *

The guests began gathering in the drawing room, and the atmosphere was lively and informal. Emily attempted, per her normal routine at the dowager's gatherings, to make herself inconspicuous by seeking a chair along the wall. Before she could so much as locate one, her arm was claimed by Lady Lavenham.

"You must let me introduce you to my husband, Miss Townsend," Louisa said as she tugged Emily along to the side of a handsome gentleman laughing at some remark of Lord Bradleigh's. "David," she said as she maneuvered the gentleman away from her brother, "I would like to present Miss Townsend, Grandmother's companion. Miss Townsend, this is my husband, Lord Lavenham. Isn't he magnificent?" She gazed fondly up at her husband. "After eleven years of marriage he is still quite the handsomest man of my acquaintance."

"I am pleased to meet you, Lord Lavenham," Emily said, smiling at the flustered viscount. He was indeed handsome, with light brown hair and expressive blue eyes. The sprinkling of silver at his temples and the lines etched at the corners of his eyes somehow added to his attractiveness.

"Your servant, Miss Townsend," the viscount said as he bent over Emily's outstretched hand. "You must excuse my wife's foolishness," he said, smiling. "I keep her close by so that she can periodically puff up my consequence."

"Nonsense!" Louisa said. "I only speak the truth, as you well know. Now, darling, you must excuse us. I want to introduce Miss Townsend to the others." She tugged Emily away so that she was able to do no more than nod at the viscount.

Louisa proceeded to introduce Emily to various aunts, uncles, and cousins. They were a motley group, to say the least, but they were each open and friendly toward her, and she liked them all. She especially liked the Marchioness Haselmere, a gregarious matron, introduced affectionately as "Aunt Doro," whose distinctive laugh could be heard frequently over the hubbub of other conversations. Her late husband had played an active role in the House of Lords, and Lady Haselmere had long been a political hostess of some renown. She was opinionated and loud, with a biting wit that left no one unscathed. Her rather stately proportions gave her the look of a ship's prow as she sailed from group to group. She quickly summed up Emily as having Whig tendencies and therefore felt compelled to rant about the Regent's apparent betrayal of his Whig associates now that he had the power to create his own government, the lack of strong Whig leadership since the death of James Fox, and on and on. Louisa was obviously bored, although Emily was, in fact, fascinated.

"Oh, here's Uncle Tony," Louisa said. "Please excuse us, Aunt Doro," she said, tugging Emily in the direction of a newly arrived older gentleman in a startling waistcoat of fuchsia and gold stripes. "He's the black sheep of the family, you know," she whispered as they approached him. "He's Grandmother's younger brother."

Emily was soon face to face with the tall, silver-haired gentleman who was introduced as Lord Anthony Poole. He leered openly at Emily.

"Enchanted, my dear," he drawled as he took her hand to his lips.

Emily had an almost overwhelming desire to wipe the very wet back of her hand on her skirt, but her good manners would not allow such rudeness.

"Behave yourself, Uncle Tony!" Louisa said in mock outrage. "Miss Townsend, I only introduce him out of duty, but I recommend you avoid him at all costs. He's a rogue of the first order. We suffer his presence merely because he is a sometimes entertaining raconteur"—she grinned fondly at her uncle—"although most of his stories skirt the very edges of decency."

"Ah, my darling girl," he replied, placing a possessive arm around Louisa's waist, "you were always most fond of my ribald tales. Never one to blush. Takes after Frances. My sister," he said to Emily.

The Windhursts arrived in due time and were introduced to the other guests by Lord Bradleigh. Emily was chatting with Simon and Julia Cameron when Lord Bradleigh approached with the Windhursts in tow. Simon, a jovial young man, was Lord Bradleigh's cousin and heir presumptive. His new bride, Julia, was very young and almost painfully shy. Emily had been attempting to put Julia at ease when they were confronted by the Windhursts. Julia took one look at Lady Windhurst, extravagantly draped in silver gauze and sporting a jeweled turban, and visibly retreated into her timid shell. Lord Bradleigh performed the introductions. Lord Windhurst was polite though obviously somewhat overawed by the level of the company. He was a short, compact gentleman with a head of thick, unruly gray hair and a pair of bushy gray eyebrows that moved constantly up and down as he spoke. Emily was momentarily distracted by the animated brows and missed some of the subsequent remarks, but was snapped back to attention by the shrill voice of Lady Windhurst.

"Well, Mr. Cameron," she was saying, "I suppose your nose is quite out of joint that my Augusta will surely produce an heir to overset your current expectations. Only natural, don't you know. But we won't hold that against you, will we, Augusta? We shall all be friends regardless. Isn't that right, Augusta?"

"Yes, Mama," Augusta replied, eyeing the floor in obvious embarrassment at her mother's forwardness.

Emily saw Mr. Cameron's eyes narrow briefly while his wife's widened in astonishment. Lord Bradleigh caught his cousin's eye, smiled ruefully, and quickly rolled his eyes heavenward and down again. Emily was thankful the Windhursts were at his side and unaware of the gesture. Nevertheless, she found that both she and Mr. Cameron had to bite back laughter.

"And, Lord Windhurst," Lord Bradleigh interrupted, "allow me to present to you Miss Townsend." He nodded toward Emily. "Augusta, Lady Windhurst—you remember my grandmother's companion?"

Lady Windhurst eyed Emily from head to toe. "Yes," she said with a sneer, immediately turning away and taking the earl by the arm. "I'm told your cousin the Marquess Haselmere is among your guests. Please introduce us."

As they watched the Windhursts move away, the Camerons and Emily shared several speculative glances. "Good God!" cried Simon when the Windhursts were out of earshot. "What a harridan!"

"Simon!" his wife scolded.

"Well, what would you call her, my dear? She ain't exactly angelic. What can Rob be thinking of? Well. .. the beautiful Miss Windhurst, of course. My God, but Grandmother must be having fits!" He looked over at Emily, and neither could hold back the laughter any longer.

Dinner was soon announced, and the guests assembled in the large dining room, each checking the place cards for their assigned seats. Emily found herself between Lord Windhurst and Lord Peregrine Banham, the young son of the dowager's daughter. The informality of the drawing room continued at table, where conversation was general and often boisterous. Clearly Lord Anthony was not the only raconteur in the group. Emily had some experience with the dowager's and Lord Bradleigh's way with a story. She was soon to witness those two, at either end of the table, matching wits with Lord Anthony, Sir Richard, Lady Haselmere, and Simon Cameron.

Lord Peregrine, recently down from Oxford and ready to embark on a career as a poet, tried repeatedly to engage Emily in a discussion on Lord Byron's most recent publication. But they were interrupted each time by one family member or another who drew them into the general conversation. Lord Peregrine leaned over toward Emily after one particularly loud outburst of general laughter.

"I hope you are not thoroughly disgusted by the antics of my relations, Miss Townsend," he said. "But then, if you've been with Grandmother in Bath, you must be used to her unconventional ways. Frankly, I love these riotous family dinners. I tell you, it is a welcome change from our home where, I can assure you, Mother never allows such uncivilized behavior!" he said, grinning.

Emily followed his glance across the table to his mother, Lady Banham, who was indeed scowling at Simon Cameron as he mimicked with devilish accuracy the mannerisms of a notable Society matron who was the topic of recent gossip. Emily brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle as she recognized the impersonation.

"Of course," Lord Peregrine continued, "m'mother don't serve such good wine, either."

It was true, Emily noticed, that a great deal of wine had been consumed. In fact, a majority of the guests were slightly on the go.

The Windhursts each seemed in some way discomposed by the unrestrained atmosphere. Emily had attempted several times to converse with Lord Windhurst, who did little more than grunt in return. He seemed thoroughly disconcerted, torn between contempt and amusement, confused as to how to react. Emily glanced down the table to see Augusta chatting with Lord Haselmere, the soft-spoken marquess. She had more than once noticed the two in quiet discussion at their end of the table, apparently oblivious to the loud talk and laughter around them. Lord Bradleigh appeared to pay little attention to his betrothed, seated at his right, as he traded barbs and quips with the others. Since Augusta remained somewhat aloof to the raucous environment, refusing to take part, she must have been forced to rely on the shy marquess for conversation. Surely this had been the dowager's intent. But what was her ultimate goal? If she merely wished to demonstrate the unsuitability of the match, there would be no point, for Lord Bradleigh, as a gentleman, could not break off the engagement.

She turned her attention to the opposite end of the table, where the dowager was deep in conversation with Lady Windhurst, whose glance frequently strayed to the marquess. Her direct looks toward the young man hinted that he might be the topic of their discussion. My God, thought Emily with sudden clarity, was it possible that the dowager meant to fix the interest of both Augusta and her Society-conscious mother on poor Lord Haselmere? Is she in hopes that his superior rank and fortune would entice Augusta to cry off from her betrothal to Lord Bradleigh? Good heavens, that must be it. She shook her head as she considered the situation.

How very shrewd of the old woman, Emily thought—if she could pull it off.

* * *

When the gentlemen returned to the drawing room, Robert was surprised to find his grandmother chatting, apparently amicably, with Lady Windhurst. He had expected she would treat the whole Windhurst family with utter disdain, while making sure to showcase the differences between their families. In truth, she needed to do no more than gather his relations together in the same room with the Windhursts, and the differences made themselves glaringly apparent. Which, he naturally assumed, had been her intention all along. Which also made this new coziness between her and Lady Windhurst decidedly suspicious. What was the old woman up to?

His other relations had more or less ignored the Windhursts after a few unsuccessful attempts to draw them into the informal bantering that had always characterized their gatherings. Lady Windhurst appeared to have remained by his grandmother's side for much of the evening, having been subtly dismissed by most of the others as a result of one or another of her tasteless remarks. Lord Windhurst, a minor baron, looked completely daunted by the exalted company, despite their sometimes unusual behavior, and had remained fairly quiet and apart. Robert could also not help but notice Augusta's chilly reserve as she surveyed his family with an attitude that hinted at disapproval. Somehow her mother must have instilled in her a strong sense of propriety and decorum that had been offended by some of his relations. Uncle Tony had probably drooled over her hand and made some indelicate remark. Aunt Doro, in her cups, had no doubt tried to engage Augusta in a political discussion, and ended up insulting her lack of interest in social reform. But they were family, and he adored them. It would not do for Augusta to be too nice in her sensibilities. He supposed he should take a little more care with his future countess, give her more time to adjust.