might be, were she interested in marriage, which fortunately she is not. And she did bring her groom.’ He chuckled. ‘She’d just out-galloped him.’
‘I’d be careful in any event. Miss Henley may claim not to be interested in marriage, although—’ Kensworth gave a derisive sniff ‘—I never believe any female who utters such rubbish! But you can be sure that mother of hers is. Been pushing the chit at every remotely eligible gentleman these last five years!’
Theo didn’t need Kensworth’s warning to know he must be very circumspect about how and when he met Emma Henley. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m well aware of the need for caution.’
‘I should hope so. Wouldn’t want to see you start down a slippery slope! Enough about the depressing topic of wedlock. How do you intend to “slip out of” this latest contretemps with Lady Belinda? Granted, she’s beautiful and has most luscious bosom I’ve ever ogled, but her behaviour…’
If it diverted Kensworth’s attention from Miss Henley, Theo was happy to talk about his latest scandal. ‘Her conduct, this time, is truly beyond the pale. Indeed…’ he made a show of consulting his pocket watch ‘…she should by now have received a bouquet and a pair of fine sapphire and diamond earrings.’
Kensworth’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You’ve given her her congé, then! So the field is open.’
‘All yours,’ Theo replied, gesturing towards him.
‘Not mine!’ Kensworth replied, holding out a hand palm-up. ‘I’ll stick with demi-mondaines who know their place! Sapphire and diamonds, you say? In the end, I’d wager the muslin company is less expensive. But you’ve always had a preference for the exclusive. So, who will be next?’
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.
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
