Carefully he laid Emily on the nearest sofa. He dropped again to his knees and pushed back the hair from her face. He swore again, more viciously. The vivid purple bruise already appearing on her temple was ample evidence of his brute force. He looked around for something to press on the swelling. There were only the dregs of his claret decanter. It would have to do. He tipped the thick ruby liquid onto the neck-cloth he had removed earlier.
The red stains left by the damp cloth matched the spreading bruise. Should he call for assistance? How was he to explain the presence of his fiancé, with hair unbound, unconscious in his private quarters? Whatever explanation was offered it would be disbelieved. The evidence spoke for itself. It had been an assignation in which they had violently disagreed and, in his fury, he had struck her down.
A faint sound alerted him. She was coming to her senses. He saw her eyelids flicker and open. He stared into her extraordinary hazel eyes and his chest constricted. How could he ever have thought her plain? She was the most beautiful and desirable woman he had ever seen.
* * * *
Slowly, Emily returned to full consciousness. Her head hurt and her vision was blurred. Then she remembered the door opening and the violent blow to her head. She stiffened and fear flooded back. She was trapped, helpless, with the monster who had tried to kill her. She felt herself falling back into a black pit. From a distance she heard a familiar voice.
'Emily, it is I, Sebastian. You are safe; I will not hurt you again. It was an accident. I thought you were an intruder.'
She lay still, assimilating his words, trying to make sense from them. It was Sebastian who had treated her so cruelly? But he was in Belgium, how could he be here in London? She felt a soothing coolness on her throbbing temple and, although she did not fully understand what she heard, she knew they were words of comfort. She sighed, relaxed and slipped into a deep restorative slumber.
* * * *
Sebastian bent down and rested his fingers under her jaw, seeking for her pulse. It was strong and regular. He thanked God she was asleep and not unconscious again. Sebastian watched her, glad his blow had apparently not caused her serious harm.
He uncoiled, rubbing his unshaven jaw, his expression troubled. He was, for the first time in his adult life, at a loss to know how to proceed. He could not carry her, undetected, upstairs to her rooms, because he did not know exactly where she had been placed. But neither could he leave her here, in his chambers, she would be hopelessly compromised. Even engaged couples could not indulge in such wanton behaviour.
What he needed were servants who were discreet and totally loyal. His man, Smith, was one; and he was certain Emily's abigail would be another. He pulled the bell and waited impatiently.
'Smith, I have a problem. If Miss Gibson and I are to come out of this unscathed I am going to need your help.'
Smith, an intelligent man, took in the situation at a glance. He had the sense not to ask questions. If he had seen the bruise marring Emily's face he might not have been so helpful but it was conveniently covered by her hair.
'I need to know which chamber Miss Gibson has been given. I also need her maid down here immediately.'
'Yes, sir.' Smith vanished leaving Sebastian to pace anxiously. Ten minutes later his servant reappeared, Jenny at his side.
'I have been beside myself with worry, my lord, when Miss Emily did not return. I didn't know what do for the best.' Jenny hurried over to her mistress puzzled that she lay so still. She was more observant than Smith. 'What has happened here, my lord? Has there been an accident?' She knelt beside Emily who stirred a little but did not wake.
Viscount Yardley coughed and cleared his throat unwilling to admit that it was he who had caused the injury. 'I startled Miss Gibson and she fell, hitting her head; but you will find that she is asleep, not unconscious.'
Jenny sniffed, which did not endear her to his lordship. 'She should be in her own bed, sir, not down here on your settle.'
He ground his teeth. 'If you would take me to her rooms, she will be in her bed soon enough.' Sebastian, Emily cradled in his arms, followed Jenny, with her candle high, along the black, silent corridors. Smith padded along in front quietly opening and closing the doors.
The warm weight of his sleeping fiancé felt right in Sebastian's arms. Her head nestled trustingly on his shoulder and she had slid her arm around his neck when he lifted her.
On reaching her bedchamber he released her reluctantly, putting her carefully on her bed. He stepped back, barely resisting the temptation to drop a kiss on her brow. Smith lit his passage back, allowing him to follow, immersed in his thoughts.
He realized he was more than reconciled to his forthcoming marriage. Life with Emily would never be dull. He smiled widely. From this point forward he was determined to turn his considerable charm and diplomatic skill to winning his young fiancé's heart.
* * * *
Emily opened her eyes and attempted to lift her head but an agonizing pain shot from her temple to her jaw and forcing her to lie still. The shutters were still drawn and she could see sunlight through the cracks. It was morning; it was time to summon her abigail. She tried a second time to rise and her world spun and the intensity of the pain sickened her. She closed her eyes until the unpleasant swirling sensations had ceased.
Jenny had heard her struggles and came bursting in. 'Now, you stay put, Miss Emily. You took a nasty tumble last night and banged your head. I have informed Lady Althea and she's on her way to see you.'
Emily felt too unwell to argue. She raised a feeble hand to indicate her agreement but made no attempt to speak. Her brain would not engage itself and it was too much effort to marshal her tangled thoughts.
Lady Althea arrived and was horrified to find her older daughter prostrate. 'My darling girl, this is too bad. I am sending for the doctor right away. It is a great pity as I planned to introduce you to society today. We have cards for an elegant musical soiree at Lady Armitage's house; it would have been the perfect venue for you to make your curtsy.'
Emily forced her tongue, which felt, and acted, like a piece of wet lamb's wool, to form an answer. 'You go to the soiree without me, Mama. It would be a shame for both of us to miss it.'
'Very well, my dear; if the doctor pronounces you well enough for me to leave you.' She glanced around the room searching for clues. 'Jenny, what exactly did Miss Gibson trip over?'
Jenny coloured. 'I've no idea, my lady. I was elsewhere when it happened. I helped Miss Emily into her bed, that's all.'
'It is all very odd.' Lady Althea smiled. 'But no doubt when Miss Gibson has recovered she will be able to tell us exactly what transpired.'
Jenny curtsied and retired to the safety of the dressing room. She rather doubted that the full truth of the matter would ever be revealed, and especially not to Lady Althea.
Chapter Nine
The doctor pronounced Emily to be suffering from a mild concussion and confined her to her bed until he visited again. She felt so wretched that she did not argue. She slept most of the day. She was unaware that twice Smith had arrived with messages from his master. At teatime Emily had recovered sufficiently to drink a little barley water, but still felt too nauseous to eat.
'Your sisters' have called, twice, but the doctor said that you were to have no visitors today, apart from Lady Althea,' Jenny told her mistress. She did not mention the missives from Viscount Yardley that remained unopened on the side table. In her opinion that gentleman was more culpable then he owned.
At dusk Emily finally felt well enough to sit up. She had an urgent need to find the commode. She rang the small brass bell her maid had placed by her bed and waited, uncomfortably, for assistance.
Her head spun unpleasantly and she was glad to regain her bed. She noticed the unopened letters on the table and asked Jenny to hand them to her. She unfolded one and the strong black writing leapt from the paper.
My dear Emily,
I am devastated to find you so unwell. Last night I had no idea you had sustained a concussion. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. Can you ever forgive me?
Yours affectionately,
Yardley.
Frowning Emily opened the second letter. This should have been read before the other.
Dear Emily,
Please could you come to the rose garden at eleven o'clock, I wish to speak with you in private.
Yours respectfully,
Yardley
Incensed she felt her head throb as the blood pulsed in waves around her body. It mattered not that the horrid brute had mistaken her for a burglar; that was no excuse, for no robber would be wearing a dress or have hair down to their waist.
She twisted the emerald ring around her finger, tempted to tear it off and return it. Then sanity prevailed. No, she would allow the engagement to continue for the present, but the minute she was established in society the engagement ended. For however much her grandfather wished it, she was never going to tie herself of a man so steeped in drink and violence that he could mistake a woman for a burglar.
* * * *
'Where is it we are going this evening, Mama?'
'The Galveston's are throwing a ball to celebrate their eldest daughter's engagement to Lord Brackley. Although it is not a fashionable time to hold such an event I am sure it will be a sad crush. The Galveston's are famous for their parties. Are you certain you are up to it, my dear?'
Emily nodded and felt no ill effects. 'I'm fully recovered, thank you. It's high time I wore one of my grand evening gowns.'
'Viscount Yardley is in residence, Emily, my love. I know you have not been well enough to see him but it would have been advantageous for him to escort us on your first appearance. After all, he is supposed to be your betrothed. Unfortunately he told me he does not have an invitation.'
'I am relieved to hear it, Mama, as I have no desire to spend an evening in his company.'
'The card states nine o'clock, but as it could take an hour for the carriage to deliver us we will leave at eight o'clock.' She glanced at the mantle clock. 'I have ordered a light repast to be served to us in our rooms at six. This will leave us ample time to complete our preparations.'
Emily could not imagine how changing one's dress could possibly take so long. 'I have not seen the girls today; I believe I heard them returning from their excursion a moment ago. I am going to find out how they enjoyed their visit to the Tower. The lions are always a splendid sight.'
Her supper was waiting for her when she returned to her own room. Although she was no longer suffering from a headache her appetite had not returned. She viewed the cold cuts, bread-and-butter and pickles with disfavour.
Jenny appeared from the bedchamber. 'Oh miss, I was becoming anxious. Your bath has been waiting this past half-hour.'
'I am coming immediately. I still have an hour before I need to be downstairs.'
She soon discovered why her mother had suggested allowing two hours for her toilette. Her elaborate hair style took so long she had barely ten minutes to put on her first real evening gown.
Lady Althea had wanted her to have all three made up in pastel shades and white for these were the expected colours for a debutante. Emily had refused. This, as far as she could see, was the only advantage that being betrothed to Viscount Yardley presented. An engaged young lady was allowed more flexibility in her choice of colour.
She had selected emerald green silk for the under skirt and a filmy silver gauze for the over dress. The bodice, cut low as fashion demanded, curved prettily over her bosom. Her mother had lent her necklace of square cut emeralds, set in silver, which complemented her outfit perfectly.
'There, miss, you're ready. I haven't pulled you in too tight, there's no need, you're still so slender.' Jenny stepped back to admire her mistress. 'You look a picture, Miss Emily. And no one could possibly mistake you for a boy tonight.'
Emily glanced down and grinned. 'I do appear to have blossomed in that area, do I not?' She ran the silk through her fingers. 'I feel like a fairytale princess. It's a pity I don't have a Prince Charming to accompany me.'
Jenny handed Emily the ribbon attached to her demi-train, her matching reticule, and fan. 'I hope I don't trip myself up, Jenny. I can't imagine how I shall manage to dance with so many bits and pieces to hold.'
'You give your reticule and fan to Lady Althea whilst you dance, miss.'
'I'm delighted to hear it. I wish you were coming too; it seems unfair only one abigail is allowed to accompany us.'
A tap on the door reminded Emily she was late. Jenny opened the door and a footman announced that the carriage was waiting outside. In a swirl of green silk Emily followed him along passageways and downstairs. Halfway down she risked a glance over the banisters. She stopped dead.
'Mama, you look
ravisante
! I hardly recognized you in that fabulous gown.'
Lady Althea smiled up at her daughter, poised like a green angel, on the stairs. 'And so do you, my love. What a spectacular pair we shall be. You will be surrounded by eligible young men, just you wait and see.'
Emily continued her descent and her gurgling laughter echoed round the entrance hall. 'I hope not, Mama. I do not wish Sebastian to feel obliged to call anyone out.' Her humorous reply was sufficient reminder of her status.
'I really meant you will not lack for partners, my love. Even an engaged lady is permitted to dance with suitable young gentlemen. But no more than once, but I am sure you already understand that rule.'
'I do indeed. I'm only permitted to stand up more than once with my fiancé.'
A footman handed them into the carriage. Its candle lamps bobbed and dipped in the darkness, the two horses stamped, their breath swirling in clouds around their handsome heads. Edwards checked that Emily's silver-lined evening cloak was safely inside the coach and that Lady Althea's ruby-red creation was resting smoothly on the seat, then they were ready to leave.