The Awakening Of Miss Henley

The image of Emma Henley’s fierce, challenging gaze flashed into his head. Firmly he suppressed it. ‘I think I shall allow the bad taste left in my mouth after the incident with Lady Belinda to dissipate before I contemplate any new liaisons.’

‘Well, you can’t wait too long. A man has needs, after all! Let me add one more recommendation for the professionals. A high-flyer knows which side her bread is buttered on and will never turn up in some public place, embarrassing you in full view of society.’

‘Thank you, but, no. I shall console myself with cards and brandy, and call it a good night.’

A good night. Identical to so many others. At that observation, he felt again that vague stirring of ennui. ‘Did you ever think there might be…something more?’ he asked abruptly, dropping for the moment his usual irreverent mask.

Kensworth blinked at him in confusion. Which Theo should have expected—Lord Theo Collington was not known for uttering serious remarks. ‘Something more than cards, drinking—and ladies? Possessed of time and blunt enough to enjoy them, what more could a man want? Especially you—with pockets deep enough you’ll never have to worry about finances and no onerous duties to keep you from your pleasures? Best of all, as a younger son, you don’t have your family nattering on about you finding a wife. Now truly, what more could any gentleman want?’

‘Onerous duties’ recalling Miss Henley’s phrase, Theo almost replied, ‘To do something important.’ But that remark would be guaranteed to increase the puzzlement on his friend’s face. Theo knew a few men who possessed burning political ambitions, or were committed to acquiring property and improving their estates, but what Kensworth described—a life devoted to cards, drink and chasing women—was indeed considered the ultimate to be desired by the majority of the gentlemen with whom he had come down from Oxford.

Certainly it was the life his father had urged on him and the brilliance with which he’d mastered the charming rake’s persona had garnered him the few compliments he’d ever received from the Marquess.

Suppressing an inward sigh, he slipped back into his expected role. ‘Yes, what higher calling than to be a rich, handsome, charming bachelor, an incomparable horseman, excellent shot and prime parti, regarded with longing eyes by every chaste single lady and with desire by every naughty married one?’

Apparently he wasn’t able to keep all the sarcasm from his tone, for Kensworth frowned and shook his head at him. ‘Can’t imagine what brought on this green melancholy. The irritation of breaking with the Beauteous Lady Belinda?’

‘After the sobering experience at the opera, perhaps I will repent of my licentious ways. Put on sackcloth and ashes. Vow a denial of the flesh and—’

‘I envisage the picture!’ Kensworth held up a hand, laughing. ‘I shall leave you to your melancholy, laughing as I go at the impossibly amusing idea of Lord Theo Collington denying himself anything he truly desires.’

Pushing away the image of Emma Henley’s enticing mouth, Theo waved his friend off. If you only knew, he thought, motioning to a waiter to bring him a bottle.

But Kensworth had given him cause for thought. If seeing Theo riding with Miss Henley in Hyde Park was apt to raise speculation, he was all the more relieved that apparently no one had spied him walking with her to Dean Street.

He probably ought to be more circumspect—for he knew better than Kensworth how determined Lady Henley was to marry Emma off. If she could refashion some action of his to make the ton believe he’d compromised her daughter, he’d have no choice but to wed Emma, no matter how much the lady herself protested. He might have perfected the guise of a careless rogue, but he was a gentleman, and such an accusation would touch his honour as well as Emma’s.

Maybe it was time to heed that voice of prudence and avoid her.

So what do you intend? another voice replied sardonically. To give her the cut direct after you nearly collide while riding in the park? Allow her to walk alone down a city street, disregarding her safety in order to safeguard your unwed status?

Wise as avoiding her might be, the choice didn’t set well.

Rejecting the offer from two newcomers to join them in a round of cards in a tone only a hair removed from churlish, he poured himself a generous drink from the bottle the waiter brought him.

He’d downed half a glass in one swallow, savouring the burn that matched the heat of his disgruntlement, when another, more appealing possibility occurred. True, sooner or later, he would have to break with Emma Henley, lest their friendship grow too marked to be concealed. Or when, as was more likely, their interaction went from energising to insipid.

As different as she was, no lady who attracted him had ever held his interest for long. When the unique became expected and the unusual commonplace, he would end the association.

But before then, with a few simple changes to his social schedule, he could enjoy her company a while longer. And, he thought, grinning, confound some of society’s expectations, and perhaps the lady’s, while he did so.

Pleased with the plan, he poured another glass, saluted himself for his cleverness and rose to join the group he’d just rebuffed.

Chapter Six (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511)

Needing to create order out of the chaos of questions and alternatives racing through her head, Emma set out for the park the next morning at her usual early hour, despite a chilly mist. The session with her mother had shaken all her expectations and, as that meeting had not taken place until just before they left for Lady Mansfield’s ball last night, she’d had no time yet to sort them out.

Unfortunately, this being a day on which both Olivia and Sara would be preparing to make calls with their respective chaperons, there could be no luring them away for a consultation at Gunter’s.

She was silently bemoaning how much she missed having her friends’ counsel when, from out of the swirling mist, she spied Lord Theo on his gelding. Her spirits soared as a little voice whispered, You could talk to him.

Or you could exhibit a modicum of dignity and discretion, and ride the other way, a sardonic voice answered back.

Before she could take that wiser course, Lord Theo happened to glance in her direction. When he recognised her and smiled, she couldn’t help smiling back. Nor could she make herself give him only a wave and ride off.

Instead, summoning just enough restraint to keep herself from trotting over to meet him, she pulled up her horse and waited.

Though she would never admit it to him, he having enough admirers already to sing his praises and inflate his already high opinion of himself, he was charming, she thought as he approached. He was also undeniably handsome, sitting astride his horse with ease, impeccably turned out in sober riding gear, a stray lock of dark hair that made one’s fingers itch to comb through it shadowing his forehead under the fashionable beaver hat.

An image guaranteed to fill a maiden with longing—even a rational, realistic one like her, she acknowledged ruefully as every foolish, feminine part of her tingled with anticipation.

But slavish admiration wasn’t what he expected from her—or what she would ever be prepared to offer him. Damping down the tingling as much as she was able, she gave him a cool nod as he halted beside her.

‘Clearing your head of brandy fumes again?’

He grinned. ‘And cigar smoke, after a successful night at cards. A pleasant good morning to you, Miss Henley. How fresh you look on this misty day.’

‘Trying to shame me by giving me a polite and complimentary greeting after my abrupt and unflattering one?’

‘My, my, we are sensitive this morning! What have I done this time to incur your disapproval?’ he asked, a wry expression replacing the smile.

‘Incur my disapproval? Nothing more than the usual.’

‘Are you sure? Because I got the distinct impression that, rather than ride with me, you were prepared to gallop off in the opposite direction. I must have offended you deeply if you almost preferred avoiding me to blistering my ears.’

Her distress must be deeper than she’d thought if her face had mirrored her feelings that transparently, she thought, dismayed. Before she could pull herself together and find a flippant reply, he continued, ‘Or is it that you’ve had that little talk with Lady Henley?’

Her feelings still raw, she fumbled to come up with an answer. Her gaze rising to meet his, she saw real sympathy there, which only increased her inner turmoil. While she hesitated, he said quietly, ‘Was it as bad as you feared?’

The memory of her surprise, chagrin and uncertainty tightened her chest, until the swelling need to give it voice made her feel she might explode. Her intention to remain dignified and distant struggled to resist it and was knocked flat.

‘Worse,’ she capitulated on a sigh.

‘Then you must tell me what happened. Shall we walk the horses?’

Her surrender complete, she nodded as he guided his mount to fall in step beside hers, her groom dropping back to follow at a discreet distance.

‘So, how worse? More sobbing recriminations? Did she wash her hands of you?’

‘No, quite the contrary, which is what was so confounding! Nothing followed the usual pattern; there were no tears, no maid waving a vinaigrette, no bewailing her undutiful and incomprehensible daughter.’

After pausing a moment, frowning as she recalled the scene, she continued, ‘When I finally went in to see her, she simply motioned me to a seat. Before I could gird myself to Confess All, she said in the calmest voice that she knew I’d refused another offer of marriage. Then, instead of the explosion of tears and recriminations I expected, she…apologised!’

‘Apologised?’ Lord Theo echoed, looking as surprised as she had been. ‘For what?’

‘Pushing Mr Null—Nullford to propose. She said she actually agreed with me that he was a poor match for an intelligent woman. That she knew I thought her silly and flighty for devoting her life to society’s trivia, ignoring the great political issues I find so compelling. She then went on, in the softest, saddest tones I’ve ever heard her utter, to tell me how much she loves me, how the one last, great desire of her life is to see me safe and happy. That she understands I have the funds to secure my future and support a household on my own and an important purpose that drives me, but that she fears a life without companionship, passion and children would end up being so cold and sterile that she’d wanted to do everything she could to prevent it—even grasp at a straw as flimsy as Nullford.’

Emma shook her head, the shock and guilt of her mother’s confession roiling in her stomach again. ‘I hardly knew what to say. Because I have secretly thought her frivolous, shallow and selfish. I felt…terrible.’