Splendid (6 page)

“Odd noises?”

Belle's expression turned sheepish. “Well, actually it might have had something to do with the fact that you crashed into the endpost when we turned the corner.”

Emma's eyes opened wide, and her gaze flew
down to the sore spot on her right hip that she'd been rubbing absently.

Belle smiled wanly. “It could very well have been your hip that hit the endpost. I seem to recall we clipped you somewhere in the middle.”

Suddenly a dreadful thought entered Emma's mind. “What about your mother?”

“None of us exactly told her what happened,” Belle hedged.

“But she must have heard the commotion.”

“Yes, well, she did seek me out once we got you up here.”

“And?” Emma prodded.

“I told her you swooned.”

“Swooned?” Emma's eyes widened in disbelief.

Belle nodded. “From the excitement of your first big ball and all that.”

“But that's ridiculous! I never swoon!”

“I know.”

“Aunt Caroline knows I never swoon!”

“I know. You're not exactly the swooning type.”

“She didn't actually believe you, did she?”

“Not for one second,” Belle quipped, tapping her slender fingers on her book. “But Mother can be marvelously tactful sometimes, and so she left it at that. As long as you appear at the ball tonight in good health and spirits, she won't say a word. I'm sure of it.”

Emma pulled herself up into a sitting position so that she could examine all her new aches and pains. “What a ridiculous day,” she sighed.

“Hmmm?” Belle looked up from her book, which she had started to read again. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing interesting.”

“Oh.” Belle glanced back at her book.

“What on earth are you reading?”

“
All's Well that Ends Well
. Shakespeare.”

Emma felt compelled to defend her education. “I know who wrote it.”

“Hmm? Yes, of course you do.” Belle smiled absently. “I brought it in to read while waiting for you to wake up.”

“Good grief. How long did you think I was going to be unconscious?”

“I had no idea, actually.
I've
never swooned before.”

“I didn't swoon,” Emma ground out between clenched teeth.

“So you say.”

Emma sighed as she looked up at her cousin's mock-innocent expression. “I suppose you want me to tell you what happened.”

“Only if you want to.” Belle reopened the leather-bound volume and began to read again. “I have all the time in the world, you know,” she added, looking back up at Emma. “I've decided to read the complete works of Shakespeare. I'm doing the plays first, then poetry.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I'm going to do it in alphabetical order.”

“Do you realize how long that is going to take?”

“Of course. But I figure that with the way you're going, I'll be spending plenty of time at your bedside.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who knows how soon you'll be unconscious again?”

“I can assure you I have no such plans for the immediate future.”

Belle smiled sweetly. “I imagine you don't. But
if you don't tell me what happened this afternoon, I might just knock you out myself.”

 

Many hours later, Emma sat at her dressing table wincing while Meg, her maid, fussed with her hair. Belle sat beside her, undergoing similar torture.

“I don't think you're telling me everything,” Belle admonished.

“I told you,” Emma sighed. “I fell down after I knocked the little boy out of the path of the hack. Then I hit my head.”

“What about those earrings?”

“The boy's mother gave them to me. She thought I was a maid. I'm planning to call on her tomorrow to give them back. How many times do you need to hear this?”

“I don't know.” Belle narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I still think you're leaving something out.”

“I saved the boy. I got the earrings. Period.” Emma gave Belle a sharp nod for emphasis.

“Emma, you were gone for an hour! Something must have happened between the boy and the earrings!”

“I was unconscious, that's what happened! What do you think, I was ravished by some mysterious man?” Emma groaned inwardly as she realized how close to the truth that speculation actually was. She felt a little guilty for not telling Belle about her strange experience with the Duke of Ashbourne. They usually told each other everything. But Emma felt strangely possessive of her time with the duke, and she didn't feel like sharing her memory with anyone, not even Belle.

“Well, I think it's absolutely famous that it was the Countess of Wilding who gave you those earrings,” Belle chuckled, amusement dancing in her
bright blue eyes. “I know Sophie fairly well. She isn't very much older than we are. Mama and her mother are good friends. They'll all just scream when they hear what happened. Although perhaps we shouldn't say anything. I don't think Mama would look favorably upon your going out alone dressed as a maid. Still, the situation is most amusing. I can't believe Sophie gave you jewels to secure your future. Why, with your fortune, you could buy and sell us all.”

“Hardly,” Emma said dryly, pointedly glancing at the string of pearls draped around Belle's throat. “Besides, she did think I was a maid.”

“I know, I know. Still, it's just too funny. I do wish that Sophie were coming tonight. I'd love to see her face when she walked into the ballroom and saw the ‘ scullery maid' decked out in all her finery.”

“Really, Belle, that's positively cruel of you. The countess was very distraught this afternoon. She nearly lost her son.”

“
You're
calling
me
cruel? You, the queen of all practical jokesters? The same girl who sent poor Ned a fake love note from Clarissa Trent?”

Emma tried to suppress a mischievous grin. “Really, it needn't have been such a big fuss.”

“You're absolutely correct,” Belle stated with noticeable sarcasm. “And it wouldn't have been, not if Ned hadn't been hopelessly infatuated with the chit.”

Emma looked away innocently. “Well, how was I to know that? I haven't made my debut yet, you know. I'm not privy to the latest gossip.”

“He only mentioned her name a hundred times a day.”

Emma “humphed” and gave her cousin a supercilious look. “Really, it all worked out for the best. Now we all know what a conniving little you-
know-what Clarissa is. When it comes right down to it, I saved your brother from a terrible fate.”

“I suppose,” Belle conceded, “but Ned was so heartbroken when he professed his love for her, and she flatly stated she was holding out for a duke with lots of money.”

“I think he was more upset that she wasn't the paragon he'd imagined her to be than he was because she didn't return his feelings. But enough of that. I've learned my lesson—no more interference in Ned's romantic life. Even if I
am
doing the right thing. So tell me, why isn't Sophie coming tonight?”

“I'm not sure. Probably because her husband is away on business in the West Indies for a few months. I think she misses him. It was a love match, you know.” Belle sighed romantically.

“It's probably for the best—even if you do have to miss seeing her shocked face. She'd get the surprise of her life if she saw me tonight. I'm sure it will be easier for everyone if I simply call on her tomorrow morning.”

“You're probably right. Do say I can go with you, though. I so want to be there when she sees you.”

“Fine, fine, of course you can—Ouch!” Emma hollered as Meg tugged on her hair a little too vigorously.

“Quit your complaining, Miss Emma,” Meg scolded. “It takes hard work and a little bit of pain to be beautiful.”

“Goodness! If it's going to require that much pain, I really don't need to be beautiful. Just leave my hair down. It's much more comfortable that way.”

Meg looked agonized. “I couldn't do that. It's not at all fashionable.”

“Oh, all right, do whatever you like with it, Meg.
Just try to keep the discomfort at a minimum.”

Belle laughed. “Oh, Emma, I don't know how you're going to make it through an entire season.”

“I don't know, either. I can never seem to remember how to be correct.”

“Stop shaking your head!” Meg yelled. “Else we'll be here all night, and you'll miss the ball.”

“With the way my head hurts, that wouldn't be such a bad thing,” Emma muttered.

“Did you say something?” Belle asked absently.

“It was nothing.” Emma didn't want Belle to know how large the lump on her head really was. Belle was sure to tell her mother, and Emma knew that her aunt would be worried sick. The evening would be ruined unless she ignored the pain and smiled her way through the party. “Why don't you tell me more about Sophie?” Emma said, just to make conversation.

“Sophie? She's a lovely person. Talks a lot, though.”

Emma giggled. “I noticed.”

“She and her husband are terribly devoted to one another. I know she just misses him dreadfully.”

“Does she have any family?”

Belle arched her brows at Emma's interest.

“I just want to know how many people are going to know about my little escapade,” Emma said hastily.

“One mother. One brother.”

“Really?” Emma tried to sound casual, but her voice came out breathy and excited.

“Yes, I think he must be about nine-and-twenty now. He's absolutely beautiful, with thick black hair and the greenest eyes you'll ever see.”

Emma felt pangs of jealousy but quickly suppressed them. The man was an arrogant, overbearing boor, and she was sure she wasn't interested
in him in the least. It didn't matter if his kiss had been the most exciting thing that had happened since she'd arrived in London. “You sound quite interested in him, Belle,” she said cautiously.

“The Duke of Ashbourne? You must be joking. He's a handsome rascal, but he is positively dangerous. He never consorts with ladies, only women, if you know what I mean. Actually, I barely know him at all, but”—Belle leaned forward conspiratorially—“I've heard that he's left broken hearts all over England.
And
the Continent.”

“He sounds quite interesting.”

“Interesting, yes. Suitable, not at all. Mama and Papa would have a fit if I set my cap after him. He's a confirmed bachelor. He won't marry for years. I'd bet my pearls on it. And when he does, it will be to some stupid little chit who can be easily managed and then ignored once she produces an heir.”

“Oh.” Emma wondered why she suddenly felt so depressed.

“He won't even come tonight. I'm sure of it. He's invited, of course. He gets invited to everything, but he never attends unless his family absolutely forces him to. He's probably got scores of fancy mistresses tucked away all over London. Besides, I'm sure you won't want to meet him. He wears a perpetual frown on his face and would probably bite your head off if you said two words to him.”

“Goodness, he's beginning to sound most unpleasant.”

“Oh, I wouldn't call him exactly ‘unpleasant.' Ned has only praise for him. They belong to the same club, you know. He says that all of his friends look up to him. More likely they want to
be
him.” Belle shrugged. “He's sinfully rich, you know, and even more sinfully handsome. I think it's just that
he so hates the social whirl—hasn't got the patience to pretend otherwise, so he just scowls at anyone who doesn't interest him. Most of my friends are terrified of him—when they're not plotting out how to get him to the marriage altar.”

“He must be quite remarkable to wield such power,” Emma commented.

“Oh, yes, it's really quite disgusting how he always gets his way. It seems that everyone panders to him.”

“Why?”

“Well, there's his title for one thing; he is a duke, you know. And as I mentioned, he is exceedingly wealthy. But if you saw him for yourself, you'd know what I meant. He positively exudes power. He's quite a specimen.”

“Belle!” Emma laughed. “Your mama would swoon if she heard you talk this way.”

“Mama swoons about as often as you do.”

“Then she's due for a good fainting spell any minute now,” Emma joked. But inside, she breathed a sigh of relief at Belle's assurance that Alex wouldn't attend her ball. Her head still ached, and she felt utterly exhausted. There was no way that
she'd
pander to the arrogant duke, but with her injury, she just wasn't up for another round with him.

Chapter 4

“A
shbourne! This is a surprise. I can't believe I'm seeing your ugly face here.”

William Dunford, one of Alex's closest chums since his Oxford days, strode across the Blydon ballroom and slapped the duke affectionately on the back. “What are you doing here? I thought you'd categorically sworn off all such gatherings.”

“Believe me, I have no intention of remaining at this little
soiree
for more than another ten minutes.” Alex kept his tone light, but underneath his temper was starting to flare. The moment he'd entered the ballroom, a hush had fallen over the crowd. Everyone had been utterly shocked to see the Duke of Ashbourne walk through the door in his elegant evening attire. Nervous mamas forced their daughters to swear they'd steer a wide path around the notorious rake (all the while secretly hoping he'd single their charges out for attention), while everyone who wasn't in some way connected with a marriageable female immediately made his way to Alex, preening at the rich, titled gentleman.

Alex sighed. He had no patience for the insipid chatter of the
ton
. All he really wanted was to find Meg, assure himself of her welfare, and leave. His latest mistress was tucked away in a cozy townhouse, and Alex was looking forward to a long, lazy night with her. An evening with Charisse
would surely rid him of this strange obsession with the Blydon's kitchen maid.