“Damn. I beg your pardon, Lady Smithfield, but that boy is enough to try the patience of a saint.”
“You do not think he means to propose to Lady Cynthia?” Lady Smithfield asked fearfully.
“That uppity yellow-haired chit? I do not think so. But he’d best be careful, for she means to get a proposal if I know anything about women.” He thought a moment in silence, while Lady Smithfield observed him in dismay. “Well, I promised I would not interfere, but he’s going to ruin the whole business if he’s not careful. I think I’d better have a talk with him.”
Lady Smithfield murmured her agreement to this plan, and followed the duke from the card room into the ballroom, where they were treated to the sight of Lord Wesleigh walking through the French doors that led to the gardens, with Lady Cynthia on his arm.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexander realized he had made a tactical error the moment he left the ballroom. Lady Cynthia had abandoned her haughty manner completely and was treating him with a flirtatious archness that made him very uncomfortable. His intention had been to use her to make Emily writhe with jealousy, as he had from Sir Marcus’s attentions to Emily. However, he had obviously not been thinking very clearly, because it was apparent from the way Lady Cynthia clutched at his arm that she had completely mistook his casual flirtation for something more serious.
“There,” he said, barely ten feet from the ballroom. “I am sure you are feeling more the thing now. Let us return to the ballroom.” He attempted to steer her in that direction, but she was not as fragile as she looked, and it was plain she had no intention of being led back into the ballroom.
“You are mistaken. I am still quite light-headed,” she drawled, laying her head against his arm.
“Then I am sure you must want your aunt. Allow me to fetch her for you,” Alexander said, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
“You are not very perceptive this evening. You must be aware that I do not want my aunt in the least,” Lady Cynthia replied, glancing up at him through half-closed eyes. She had perfected that look in the mirror, and had found it useful on many occasions to bend a recalcitrant gentleman to her will. Alexander thought she looked as if she had had too much to drink. He was quite relieved to hear that someone had exited the ballroom after them, and turned around quickly to see who it was.
Lady Cynthia, who had been practically reclining on Alexander’s arm, was startled when he withdrew his support, and she stumbled. She was quite annoyed when, as she attempted to regain her balance, she accidentally stepped on the flounce of her dress. There was a loud ripping sound, and to make her frustration complete, she looked up from an examination of her dress to see Emily Smithfield grinning at her predicament. While Emily felt sorry that Lady Cynthia had damaged her dress, she had been unable to completely hide her amusement at the sight of the graceful and elegant Lady Cynthia reeling about like a drunken sailor.
Before Lady Cynthia could speak, Alexander hailed Emily and her companion enthusiastically. “Miss Smithfield and, I believe it’s Mr. Watkins, is it not? What good luck in running into you like this.”
“I believe we have interrupted your, um, conversation,” Emily said, her implication plain.
“How astute of you—” Lady Cynthia began, in her haughtiest manner, only to be interrupted by Alexander.
“Nonsense. Your arrival is most fortuitous. Lady Cynthia has had an accident and needs to repair her dress. I am sure she would appreciate it immensely if you would escort her to the cloakroom, Mr. Watkins. I just remembered that I had promised to convey a message to Miss Smithfield.”
Lady Cynthia would have protested, but Alexander practically shoved her at Mr. Watkins, and, as Mr. Watkins had no objections to the scheme, Lady Cynthia found herself being returned to the ballroom by her insignificant escort. Mr. Watkins, who had only five minutes ago lost his heart irrevocably to Emily, decided he had been overly hasty and spent the rest of the evening trailing after Lady Cynthia, much to her dismay.
They were met on their way into the ballroom by Lady Smithfield, the duke, Lydia, and Sedgewick, who were quite surprised, and a little cheered, by the sight of Lady Cynthia and Mr. Watkins together. The group proceeded down the path and very quickly caught sight of Emily and Alexander, standing in the middle of a walk by a statue of a Greek goddess. As Alexander and Emily had not observed them, and none of the party wished to interrupt the couple, they quickly positioned themselves behind some bushes and shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation.
Alexander was telling Emily in a voice that sounded more like that of an irate parent than a lover that she had some explaining to do.
“I beg your pardon?” Emily said, in her best imitation of Lady Abernathy.
“And so you should. What were you doing walking alone in the gardens with that young puppy?”
“I believe, sir, that you were also walking alone in the gardens with a companion who, if I were to continue your use of animal appellations, I would term a cat.”
There was a snicker from one of the bushes, hastily suppressed.
“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that, my girl,” Alexander said.
“Oh?” Emily asked, and Alexander found himself having to provide an explanation of his behavior, without ever receiving one from Emily.
“It was entirely your fault that I was walking out here with Lady Cynthia.”
“Really? And was it my fault as well that she was resting her head on your arm?”
The duke nudged Lady Smithfield, whispering to her that their suspicions of Lady Cynthia were correct, and that she was a hussy of the first order.
“Yes, it was,” Alexander replied, folding his arms in front of his chest and looking smug.
“Perhaps I am singularly dull-witted, but I really do not see what your assignation with Lady Cynthia has to do with me.”
“It was part of an obvious attempt to make you jealous, and I do not think I flatter myself when I believe that I succeeded.”
Emily tried to control the racing of her heart at this leading speech, and hoped she managed to look as cool and collected as Alexander.
“Well? Did I succeed?” Alexander asked, who was not as composed as he appeared.
Emily turned and began walking aimlessly down the path, farther away from the house, much to the dismay of her audience, who scrambled to follow without being observed. She finally stopped and sat on a stone bench that, fortuitously enough, was backed by a hedge. Alexander sat beside her, a little closer than she thought was safe, as she felt there was some danger of her poor beleaguered heart jumping out of her chest.
“Emily,” Alexander said, in a wheedling tone, as he took her hand in his, “you still have not given me an answer.”
“I will admit to being a little jealous,” Emily said, too shy to meet Alexander’s eyes, “if you tell me to what purpose you tried to make me so.”
“I already made that plain, I thought, when I offered for you a few days ago. Perhaps I am foolish to think that your feelings have undergone any change since then.”
“No, they have not.”
“I see,” Alexander said, dropping Emily’s hand.
“I love you as much now as I did then,” Emily replied softly.
It took Alexander a few minutes to react to this statement, as he was nearly incapable of assimilating such a declaration. When he finally realized what she had said, he turned to her in disbelief. “Then why, my girl, did you refuse me? Didn’t you love me enough to marry me believing me to be a curate? I would have married you had you had been a scullery maid in your mother’s house.”
“I do not believe that.”
“Well, maybe not a scullery maid, but had we both been as poor as church mice, I would have still married you, even if we had to wait years before it was possible. I cannot believe that you did not feel the same.”