Part 11 (2/2)
He took it from her, and stayed where he was, leaning against the wall. ”I'm sorry I was so beastly yesterday evening, Emma,” he said simply. ”I was worried about you. The streets are dark, and London's full of ugly customers.”
With that he nodded to her as she stared at him in wonder, and started down the hall, opening a letter as he went. Before she could collect herself, he laughed out loud and turned back to her. ” This is too good to keep to myself,” he said. ”It's from Fae Moulle. She expresses her-it's either grat.i.tude or att.i.tude, or possibly lat.i.tude-and declares that when I marry, she will trim a bonnet for the new Lady Ragsdale! I defy anyone to come up with a better offer from a mistress, Emma. What do you think?”
I think I am full of grat.i.tude or att.i.tude myself, she thought, dimpling at the idea of Fae Moulle presenting Lord Ragsdale's bride with a bonnet and sharing bedroom confidences.
”I think you will have to be extremely diplomatic, should this eventuality arise, my lord,” she replied, feeling a slight twinge at her own deception with Fae. ”Perhaps it would be best if Fae remained your little secret.”
”My thought precisely.” He paused then and a slight wariness crept into his eye. ”Emma, you won't be needing me today, I trust.”
”Well, we did need to look over your estate receipts before we leave for Norfolk tomorrow, my lord,” she reminded him gently, not wis.h.i.+ng to disturb the moment.
”Tonight, then, Emma. I am off to Tatt's to buy another horse,” he told her. ”When that arduous endeavor is completed, I will toddle over to Whitcomb Street and pay a morning call on Clarissa Partridge.”
”Very good, my lord,” she interrupted, raising her eyebrows.
”And then, with or without your permission, I will descend on White's for lunch, a brief snooze in the reading room, and then a gentlemanly gla.s.s of port. Only one, mind you,” he a.s.sured her as he continued his progress to the book room. ”I intend to become a pattern card of respectability.”
She watched him go, shaking her head and wondering why men were so strange. He must be in love, she concluded as Lord Ragsdale took his correspondence into the book room and closed the door behind him. This isn't the same tight-lipped man who greeted me with such a scold last night. Something wonderful must have happened at the theatre, Emma decided as she climbed the stairs on light feet. If this romance with Clarissa prospers, perhaps I will be sprung from this indenture faster than I had hoped.
And why not love? she mused as she walked down the hall to Lady Ragsdale's room. He said he was thirty, high time for any man to be thinking seriously about marriage and a family. She knocked on the door, hugely pleased.
Lady Ragsdale was still in bed. She looked up over the newspaper and smiled at Emma. ”Ah, my dear. Over there are the dresses John ordered for you. They came yesterday with Sally's things, and we didn't notice it until the afternoon.”
”For me?” Emma asked as she approached the dresses draped over the chair.
”For you, Emma. And don't look so dumbfounded! John has a very kind streak, once someone calls his attention to a necessity,” Lady Ragsdale stated.
”But I never said anything,” Emma insisted, picking up the dress on top and admiring the softness of the deep green wool. There were lace collars and cuffs on the chair, too, and a petticoat far better than the ragged thing she wore.
”No? Well, perhaps neither of us gives John credit for the good he does.”
”I am certain you are right, my lady,” Emma said. The other dress was black, and experience told her how good it would look as a background to her auburn hair and pale complexion. ”Oh, please tell him thank you for me.”
”Tell him yourself,” Lady Ragsdale said with a smile. ”And Emma, I have a paisley shawl inside my dressing room that I never wear. It's hanging on the closest peg to the door.”
In a haze of pleasure, Emma went into the dressing room and was brought quickly back to earth by Lady Ragsdale's dresser, who obviously had been listening at the door. Acton thrust the shawl into her hands and hissed, ”Don't think you'll get any more from my lady.”
”I learned long ago not to expect anything,” Emma whispered back. ”I'm certain you'll be quick to tell me if I overstep my place here, Acton.”
The shawl looked especially fine with the green dress. Emma remembered to drop a quick curtsy to Lady Ragsdale and another breathless ”Thank you” before closing the door quietly behind her. She was down the stairs in a moment, and knocking on the book-room door.
”Emma, you needn't knock” came Lord Ragsdale's voice from within. ”I'm not ingesting opium or fondling the upper chambermaid. At least not presently.”
You are so outrageous, she thought with a grin. It almost amounts to Irish wit. She opened the door and came into the room, suddenly shy. ”I just wanted to thank you for the dresses,” she said.
He looked up from the desk where he was going over her neatly entered account books. ”I hope they fit.”
Some sense told her that they would be a perfect fit. ”I am sure they will, my lord.” When he continued looking at her, she hesitated. Why do I dislike being under obligation to this man? she considered as she watched him lean back and continue his perusal of the ledgers. ”Sir, you didn't need to go to such expense for me.”
He closed the book and indicated the chair next to the desk.
”Emma, I may have many faults, but dressing poorly is not among them. I like the people whom I employ to look at least half as grand as I do.”
She laughed out loud, and he joined in her laughter. ”Well, I don't expect you to match my incomparable high looks, Emma, but you must agree that if we are to do business together, I have certain standards.”
”Yes, my lord,” she agreed, a twinkle in her eyes. ”I have standards, too. Does this mean that if I do not approve of your waistcoat or pantaloons, you will change them to oblige me?”
It was the closest she had ever come to a joke with an Englishman, and he seemed to know. He laughed again, reached out and touched her arm. ”By all means, by all means. I have it on unimpeachable authority that a good wardrobe covers a mult.i.tude of character flaws. You are welcome to correct me.”
She watched him a moment more, struck by a sudden and wholly unexpected wave of pity. You are so convinced of your own flaws, she thought, and how sad this is for you. And how strange that I am feeling sorry for an Englishman.
”Emma, you must have something quite serious on your mind,” Lord Ragsdale was saying, when she paid attention to him again. ”Can it be that my flaws cannot even be covered by a good tailor and boots from Hobie?”
I am going to be impertinent, she thought as she sat there. ”You have far fewer flaws than you think, my lord,” she said, her words coming out in a rush, as though she feared she would not be able to say them if she gave them thoughtful consideration. ”And ... and thank you for being concerned enough last night to give me the scold I deserved. I promise not to be out past dark in the future on my day off.”
There, she told herself, think what you will. I mean every word of it. As she sat there in embarra.s.sment, it was as though a great stone rolled off her heart. She could not have explained the feeling to anyone, because it was new to her. All she suspected was that it might not be such an onerous ch.o.r.e to serve this man until her indenture was up.
He regarded her as seriously as she knew she was looking at him. ”Why, thank you, Emma,” he said finally. ”I believe you mean every word of that.”
”I do,” she said promptly as she stood up. ”Now, tell me what you want me to do today while you are out, and I will get at it.”
He considered her another moment, a half smile on his face, then set her some tasks that would keep her soundly busy until it was time to leave tomorrow for his Norfolk estate. ”When I return this afternoon, I'll expect you to join me in the stables for a look at my new purchase,” he finished, making room for her at the desk and going to the door. ”I warn you it will be expensive, so if you want to prune up now, make faces, and act like a secretary and fiscal adviser, be at liberty.”
She smiled. ”I have no qualms about what you spend your money on, my lord,” she a.s.sured him, ”as long as it will lead to prompt double entries, your continuing reformation, and eventual marriage. You know the terms.”
”Indeed, yes,” he agreed, opening the door and leaning against it. ”Do wear the green dress first, will you?”
She blushed and busied herself at the desk, murmuring something in reply.
”Don't mumble, Emma,” he said. ”It's a bad habit.”
”Very well, my lord,” she said distinctly. ”By the way, I meant to ask: Did you have an especially nice time at the theatre last night?”
”You mean, why am I so pleasant this morning?” he asked in turn, leaving her to wonder at his prescience. ”Actually, I admired Clarissa's charms with my opera gla.s.ses from the safety of my own box, and spent the rest of the time trying to figure out how to apologize to you. Good day, Emma.”
She sat at the desk and stared at the door. He opened it again. ”And Emma,” he continued, ”if you should ever feel the urge to (rust me enough with your own problems, I might even be able to surprise you with useful solutions.”
I wonder if he truly means that, she thought several times that morning as she worked in the book room. This reflection was followed by the fact that no Englishman had ever kept his word to her or her family. She dismissed his offer, but noted, to her annoyance, that his words kept popping into her mind as she answered his correspondence.
Such a plethora of invitations, she considered as she looked them over and sent regrets or acceptances, according to his instructions. Now, I would prefer a picnic al fresco to a dinner at the home of some stuffy, gouty duke, she thought. Perhaps Lord Ragsdale prefers old cigar smoke to ants. She wondered what would happen if she arrived at one of these events in his place, chuckling to herself at the imagined expressions on the face of her surprised host. Papa had always a.s.sured her-especially on those days when her brothers were more trying than usual-that she had the poise and ability to move in any social circle. Of course, I would have to lose my accent and study the trivial, so I could be sufficiently vacuous.
Her thoughts drifted to Clarissa Partridge. ”I hope you are intelligent enough to realize what you might have,” she murmured. ”Lord Ragsdale is certainly potter's clay for the molding, if you are suitably managing. He could even amount to something, with the proper guidance.”
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