far grander than first planned. Furthermore, you must give Drusilla her due. She might be terribly spoilt, but she’s definitely no fool. It is her ambition to make a truly splendid match, and showing a sulky face to the polite world isn’t likely to attract many contenders for her hand. I believe she has set her sights quite high—a countess, no less, although Godmama mentioned earlier, when I was here, that her daughter is rather taken with your Lord Hawkridge.’
‘He isn’t my Lord Hawkridge,’ Emily countered, hoping that she hadn’t sounded waspish, but fearing from her friend’s suddenly guilt-ridden expression that she had. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. As you might have guessed already I am a trifle on edge this evening.’
The fingers of her left hand received a brief, reassuring squeeze as Emily raised her eyes and looked about the room for that tall, well-remembered figure. She didn’t immediately perceive him standing amidst a group of gentlemen in the far corner of the room. It was only when he turned his head and she received the full impact of an unwavering gaze from all too perceptive grey eyes that she realised that the gentleman immaculately attired in a long-tailed black coat, which emphasised the breadth of superb masculine shoulders, and tight-fitting trousers, which did little to hide the muscular shapeliness of long legs, was none other than the being who continued to plague her dreams all too frequently even after all these years.
‘Oh, dear God! He’s coming over,’ she muttered, striving to control the sudden pounding of that erratic organ beneath her ribcage. ‘Why couldn’t the wretched creature have allowed me at least a few minutes in order to compose myself?’
Although Emily had finally revealed her true state of mind, Sarah wouldn’t have supposed for a moment that the young woman beside her was suffering the least distress, for on the surface she appeared remarkably composed, extending a steady hand, which was immediately captured and retained in shapely fingers, and greeting the man whom she had never ceased to love without so much as a tremor in her pleasantly mellow voice.
‘Hello, Em,’ he responded in a deep, throaty tone that was no less appealing than the smile he bestowed upon her, before glancing briefly in Sarah’s direction.
Emily, quite beautifully maintaining her control, was not slow to perform the introductions. ‘I do not believe you are acquainted with my friend Miss Nichols, Lord Hawkridge.’
‘No, I have not had the pleasure,’ he admitted, releasing Emily’s fingers in order to clasp Sarah’s small hand briefly in his own.
‘You were out when I arrived at the house, sir,’ she hurriedly remarked in an attempt to hold his attention and allow Emily time to take a few steadying breaths. ‘You had driven over to see Sir George Maynard, I believe.’
‘I didn’t realise that you were acquainted with our local magistrate, Hawk,’ Emily commented, easily regaining his full attention.
‘Oh, we’ve bumped into each other on a few occasions at our club, don’t you know.’
Sarah detected her friend’s slight frown at the drawled response, but was unable to remain to offer further support, for Lady Deverel was attempting to catch her eye, and she was obliged to slip away.
‘Pretty girl,’ his lordship remarked, taking out his snuffbox, and receiving a second frowning glance. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’ he asked as deep blue eyes looked him over from the carefully dishevelled arrangement of his mid-brown locks down to his fashionably clad feet. ‘Don’t I pass muster?’
To her amazement Emily found herself experiencing an acute stab of disappointment at the needless affectations he appeared to have acquired during their long separation. ‘I strongly suspect that those tales I’ve been reading about you in the newspapers in recent years are all too true. Be careful, Hawk, that you do not turn yourself into a complete man-milliner.’
Only for a second did his eyes narrow fractionally, before he returned the small silver box, its contents untouched, to his pocket. ‘You too have changed, m’dear.’ His gaze lingered for a moment on the square-cut neckline of her dress and what it temptingly revealed. ‘You have blossomed into a woman.’
Emily was powerless to prevent the tell-tale colour rising in her cheeks. She did not like this Sebastian Hawkridge. No, not a whit! The man she well remembered had been no tailor’s dummy, nor had he possessed the knowing gaze of the hardened rake. She had always felt so safe, so secure whenever he had been with her. She felt anything but safe now in the company of a man who might easily have been a complete stranger.
‘Yes, Lord Hawkridge, I fear we have both changed.’
‘In your case, m’dear, the changes are most definitely for the better. You have become a most elegant young lady.’
‘And you, sir, have become an accomplished flirt,’ she parried lightly in an attempt to conceal her rapidly mounting disappointment. ‘You’ll be telling me next that I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.’
The crooked half-smile which she remembered so well was suddenly tugging at one corner of his shapely mouth. ‘Oh, no, my dear. You may have altered during our years apart, but not, I strongly suspect, to the extent that you are susceptible to insincere flattery. Miss Drusilla Deverel has the edge in the looks department, as you well know,’ he returned, with that admirable candour which she had always admired.
‘That’s better,’ he announced, with a further easy smile, when she found it impossible to suppress a chuckle. ‘Now, before that young man who is purposefully heading in our direction whisks you away, would you grant me the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow? I’ve been hearing some wonderful tales about you startling the populace by tooling yourself about the countryside in a curricle. Perhaps you might even be gracious enough to take me up beside you?’
‘Of course,’ she responded without considering the wisdom of her answer. But it was already too late to change her mind. The son of a near neighbour was standing before her requesting her as a partner in the next set of country dances, and Lord Hawkridge, after executing a graceful bow, chose not to linger.
Although far more successful in concealing the fact, Sebastian had been equally disturbed by this their first meeting in a very long time. The years he had spent in London perfecting the role of a wealthy, pleasure-seeking care-for-nobody had certainly stood him in good stead for just such an occasion as this. But it had not been easy to maintain the impersonation where Emily was concerned, even for those few short minutes.
When last he had seen her she had been scarcely more than a girl, coltish and slightly awkward, but the intervening years had wrought many changes. ‘Blossomed’ was the word which best described it, he decided, relieving a footman of a glass of champagne, and positioning himself beside the wall, where a huge vase of flowers partially concealed him from those taking part in the dance. Yes, Mother Nature had certainly performed her task well where Miss Emily Stapleton was concerned, bestowing upon her delightful feminine curves, and finely honing the delicate features into perfect symmetry.
But had all the changes been purely superficial? he could not help wondering, as he keenly followed her graceful progress down the set. Or had she matured mentally too? First impressions would suggest strongly that she had. Was the time now right for him to honour the pledge that he had made to the late Laura Stapleton? Should he attempt to woo her daughter in earnest? More importantly, could he afford to wait any longer? It would be madness to assume that, just because Emily had betrayed no interest in any gentleman during their years apart, she would continue to remain content with her single state. Another Season in Brighton with her late mother’s sister was looming large on the horizon. Then afterwards perhaps London might beckon, where numerous gentlemen bent on making
