The Awakening Of Miss Henley

His spirits immediately brightening, he felt his lips curving back into a smile. ‘Thank you, Miss Henley, for your solicitude in enquiring whether my mount and I sustained any harm in the shock of our near-collision. But then, what other lady might I expect to find galloping through the park like a steeplechaser?’

‘Temperance Lattimar,’ she tossed back. ‘Although now that she’s wed, she’s generally too occupied with the business of being an earl’s wife to have time to gallop in the park. One more good reason to remain single.’

‘I agree with you there. But isn’t it a bit late for your ride? You usually come earlier if you intend to race like a Newmarket jockey.’

He waited in anticipation, but she didn’t rise to the bait, merely replying, ‘True. Whereas you, Lord Theo—’ she gave him a quick inspection ‘—appear to have not yet found your bed. Carousing late again?’

‘As would be expected of the ton’s leading bachelor,’ he replied, his smile deepening.

What a singular female she was, he thought, captured anew by the force of the intense hazel-eyed gaze she’d fixed on him. She was the only woman of his acquaintance who, rather than angling her face to give him a flirtatious look or a seductive batting of her eyes, looked straight at him, her fierce, no-nonsense gaze devoid of flattery.

‘If I rode close enough, I suppose I would catch the scent, not just of horse, but of your latest lover’s perfume.’

Grinning, he shook a reproving finger. ‘You know a gentleman never gossips.’

As she tilted her head, studying him, he felt it again—the primitive surge of attraction of a male for a desirable female. He’d been startled at first to have the plain woman society dismissively referred to as ‘the Homely Miss Henley’ evoke such a reaction. But though she possessed none of the dazzling beauty that had made her elder sister, ‘the Handsome Miss Henley’ a diamond of the ton, there was something about her—some restless, passionate, driving force he sensed just beneath her surface calm—that called out to him, as compelling as physical beauty.

Unfortunately, he reminded himself with a suppressed sigh, it was also an attraction quite impossible to pursue. A gentleman might dally with willing married ladies, but never with an innocent.

He’d have to content himself with indulging in intellectual intercourse. A delight in which Miss Henley was as skilled as his former lover was in dalliance.

‘Then I shall not press you for details, but send you off to your bed,’ she said after a moment, the trace of heat in her gaze sending another wave of awareness through him.

Did he only imagine it, or did that comment imply that she, too—virginal maiden though she was—envisaged beds and a pressing together of flesh when she focused so intently upon him?

‘I shall resume my interrupted gallop,’ she continued as he sat speechless, distracted by that titillating speculation.

‘This late in the morning?’ Dragging his mind from its lecherous thoughts, Theo turned his attention back to the lady—and frowned.

Miss Henley’s face, normally a long, pale, unremarkable blank, was flushed. Her jaw was set and those exceptional hazel eyes glittered with more than usual fire.

Even more unusually, he realised, she was completely alone. Though Miss Henley often scoffed at society, she usually followed its conventions, which forbade an unmarried lady of quality from going anywhere unaccompanied.

‘Something happened this morning, didn’t it?’

Though she shook her head in denial, her quick huff of frustration and a clenching of her teeth belied that response.

‘Come now, give, give! Your groom is nowhere in sight, which means you must have outridden him, and no one attends you—not even the very attentive Mr Null.’

Her flush heightened. ‘It wasn’t well done of me to have dubbed him that. And I should never have let you trick that name out of me!’

‘Ah, but the description is so apt, I would have tumbled to it myself, had you not beaten me to it.’

To his surprise, she lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘You shouldn’t mock him, just because he is not handsome and clever and irresistible to women, like you are,’ she cried, her tone as angry as her expression.

‘I don’t mean to mock,’ he protested, surprised by her vehemence. ‘But even you admit he has the personality of a rock.’

‘Even a dull, ordinary rock has feelings.’

‘I imagine it does—and has as much difficulty expressing them verbally as Mr Nu-Nullford. Why this sudden concern? I thought you’d been trying to avoid the man! Surely you haven’t suddenly conceived a tendre for him!’

‘No, of course not.’ The fire in her eyes died, leaving her expression bleak. Breaking their gaze, she turned her horse and set it to a walk—away from him.

‘You should know you can’t be rid of me that easily,’ Theo said, urging his mount to catch up with hers. ‘Come now, finish the conversation. If you haven’t inexplicably become enamoured of Mr Nullford, why this sudden concern for his feelings?’

As she remained silent, her face averted, an awful thought struck, sending a bolt of dismay to his belly.

‘Has your mama been after you again to marry? Surely you don’t intend to give in and encourage his suit!’ When she made no reply, he prodded again. ‘Do you?’

‘No, of course not,’ she snapped, looking goaded. ‘If you must know, he made me an offer this morning. I refused it.’

‘Ah,’ he said, inexplicably relieved. ‘That’s the reason for the ride. Avoiding what will doubtless be your mama’s attack of the vapours once she learns you’ve turned down another offer. How many will that make?’

‘Far fewer than the number of women you have seduced,’ she retorted.

He laughed. ‘Probably. Although, I should point out, I’ve never seduced a lady who didn’t wish to be seduced.’

‘Why do I let you trick out of me things I should never admit? And cajole me into me saying things I shouldn’t?’

‘Probably because you know I will never reveal the truths you—and I—see about society to anyone else.’

She sighed. As if that exhale of breath took with it the last of her inner turmoil, she turned back to him with a saucy look. ‘You deserve the things I say that I shouldn’t, you know. Like the very first time you deigned to speak with me.’

He groaned, recalling it. ‘Very well, I admit, you showed me up on that occasion—which was most unkind of you!’

‘You shouldn’t have pretended to remember me when clearly you didn’t.’

‘One could hardly admit to a lady that one doesn’t remember her. I was trying to play the Polite Society Gentleman.’

‘No, you were playing Ardent Gentleman Trying to Impress a Dazzling Beauty by Pretending to Know her Plain Friend,’ Miss Henley shot back.

‘Well, even so, it wasn’t nice of you to embarrass me in front of the dazzling Miss Lattimar.’

She chuckled—a warm, intimate sound that always invited him to share in her amusement, even when it was at his expense. ‘It did serve you right.’

‘Perhaps. But it was a most unhandsome response to my attempt to be chivalrous.’

‘If I am so troublesome, I wonder that you continue to seek me out and harass me. Why not just cut the connection?’

‘Don’t tempt me! But every time I contemplate giving you the cut direct you so richly deserve, I recall how singular you are—the only woman in society who doesn’t try to attract my attention. Who says the most outrageous things, one never knows about what or whom, except that the remarks will not adhere to society’s polite conventions—and will be absolute truth. A lady who, most inexplicably, appears impervious to my famous charm. I’m always compelled to approach you again and see if you’ve yet come to your senses.’

‘Why, so you may add me to your harem of admirers?’ she scoffed. ‘I shall never be any man’s property. But all this begs the question of why, if you were merely returning from a night of pleasure, you felt the need for a gallop.’

He hesitated, knowing it would be better to say nothing. Yet he was drawn to reveal the whole to perhaps the one person with whom, over the last few months, he’d inexplicably come to feel he could forgo the façade and be honest.

‘Come, come, bashful silence isn’t in character! You bullied me into revealing my secret. You know I won’t stop until I bully you into revealing yours.’

‘You are a bully, you know.’

‘And now who is being unkind?’ she tossed back, grinning. ‘So, what is it? Have the Beauteous Belinda’s charms begun to fade?’

He gave her a severe look. ‘You know far too much about discreet society affairs about which an innocent maiden should be completely unaware.’

‘Oh, balderdash! Even innocents in their first Season gossip about your exploits. Besides, I’d hardly call the liaison “discreet”. The Beauteous Belinda was boasting at Lady Ingraham’s ball just two nights ago about what a skilled and devoted paramour you are.’

‘Was she now?’ he asked, feeling his jaw clench as fury smouldered hotter. He should have broken with the wretched woman weeks ago. ‘Then you haven’t yet heard about the most recent incident. Last night, at the opera.’

Her teasing expression fading, she looked at him with genuine concern. ‘That sounds ominous. Did she finally try to demonstrate her supposed control over you too outrageously?’

He envisaged the scene again, struck as much on the raw by the succession of disbelief, then discomfort and then rage as he’d been when the episode unfolded. ‘All right, I concede that I probably should have reined in Lady Belinda long ago. It…amused me when she boasted of having me “captivated”. I thought, apparently erroneously, it was a mutual jest, both of us knowing the connection was as convenient as it was pleasurable, with no serious commitment on either side. But for her, on one of Lord Ballister’s rare forays into society, to desert her husband, track me down in the box I was sharing with friends and remain there, hanging on my arm, trying to kiss and fondle me in full view of the audience—and her husband! It was outside of enough!’

‘Oh, dear,’ Miss Henley said, her gaze surprisingly sympathetic. ‘That was not at all well done of her.’

‘I can appreciate that she wasn’t enthused about wedding a man thirty years her senior. A discreet affair, quietly conducted, is understood by all concerned. But though he may be elderly and often ill, Lord Ballister is an honourable gentleman of excellent character. He didn’t deserve to be made to look the cuckolded fool so blatantly and in so public a forum.’

‘No, he did not. But honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to notice how flagrant she has become. She’s been singing the aria of your enslavement at full voice for months now.’

‘Have I truly been that blind?’ At her roll of the eyes, he sighed. ‘I shall have to be much more observant in future.’

She gave him a thin smile. ‘In my experience, the acuteness of a gentleman’s observation varies in inverse proportion to the beauty of the lady.’

‘And a lady’s observation is so much more acute?’

‘It is—and it isn’t. A lady always, always has much more to lose than a gentleman. And having few options, with marriage normally the only way to secure her future, she may…overlook quite obvious deficiencies.’ She sighed. ‘I just don’t think that anyone should be judged solely on the basis of their looks—or lack of them. Character should count for something, shouldn’t it?’

Picturing Lady Belinda, he said acidly, ‘I’m afraid society is usually more impressed by flash and dash.’

‘Which is why I’d rather eschew marriage and devote my life to good works.’

‘What sort of good works? You’re not going to become one of those dreary Calvinists, warning sinners of fire, brimstone and destruction?’

‘No, I prefer building to destroying. I should like to do something useful. Unlike some I could mention, who seem to think all that’s necessary for a satisfying life is to seduce silly women, drink other men under the table and win at cards.’

‘I can’t imagine to whom you refer,’ he said with a grin. ‘I do ride horses rather well, though.’

‘Perhaps your only noteworthy skill.’

‘Oh, no! I drive quite well, too. You’ve seen me handle a high-perch phaeton.’

‘Excellent. You can look forward to life as a Royal Mail coachman when you run through all your money.’

Laughing, he said, ‘I’d still have my charm. Isn’t charm useful?’

‘For cozening the unwary, perhaps. I’m too downy to fall for that.’

Their teasing gazes collided—and once again held, something undeniable, and undeniably sensual, sparking between them.

‘Ah, that you were not,’ he murmured, regretting her innocent, unmarried state more keenly than ever.

Her pale face colouring, she looked away. ‘Well, enough banter. Thank you for helping me restore my equilibrium so I may return and face down Mama. I’ve half a mind to tell her I am done, absolutely done, with society. No more Season. I’ve had enough!’

He shook his head doubtfully. ‘A noble resolve! We’ll see how long it takes for your mama to squash it.’

‘Thank you so much for the encouragement,’ she said drily. ‘Good day to you, Lord Theo.’

‘And to you, Miss Henley,’ he said, watching her ride off to meet her belatedly approaching groom. Remembering the unwelcome proposal that had prompted the gallop that had left her servant eating dust, he had to smile again. Thank heavens Miss Henley was so resistant to being forced into the usual female role.

Thank heavens, too, that most men were too dull-witted and dazzled by bright and shiny society beauties to recognise the quiet gem among them. Meaning Miss Henley was unlikely to be pursued by a man she might actually want to accept.

Although…if she were married, especially to someone she couldn’t possibly admire, like Mr Null, he might actually be able to indulge this annoyingly strong urge to pursue her.

Damn, but she was unusual! The woman drew him far too strongly, on too many levels. More and more frequently, he found himself struggling between two polar opposite desires: to throw caution to the wind and see if she truly possessed the passion of which he caught tantalising glimpses. Or the much more prudent course of avoiding her completely.

Chapter Three

As it happened, after returning from the park, Emma did not gird her loins and confront her mama.

Instead, she found herself having to soothe Marie, who sobbed as she helped Emma change from her habit into an afternoon gown and then fell before her, apologising for having kept Mr Nullford’s presence a secret and begging Emma’s forgiveness for the deception. In between hiccups, she explained that she only wanted her dear, sweet mistress to find a kind man who would take care of her and give her a happy life, like Lady Henley was always saying Emma needed.

Not until Emma had reassured the maid over and over that she was not angry and would never turn Marie off without a character, that she understood Marie just wanted the best for her, was the girl finally able to dry her tears.

By the time the maid bobbed a final curtsy and headed back to the servants’ quarters, Emma had had enough of sobbing and confrontation. Although it was likely her mama would be sobbing, too, when she confronted Emma, rather than apologise for her part in the deception, she was more likely to heap recrimination on Emma’s head for having turned down a perfectly unexceptional suitor.

And then lament, with another bout of tears, what was to become of her poor, plain, maiden daughter if she kept throwing away every chance to become respectably settled when, at her age, Emma could not hope to receive many more offers—perhaps not any!

It would not be the first time Emma had endured such a scene, though she devoutly hoped it would be the last. But after suffering Marie’s outburst, it made her head hurt just to think about meeting her mother, who seemed as oblivious as the maid to what Emma really wanted.

Which sealed it. She would grab a footman to escort her and slip away to Hatchards before her mama found out she’d returned home. There, she could dash off quick notes asking her two best friends from school to meet her at Gunter’s for some ices, after which, although it wasn’t the day for their normal weekly meeting, they might call on Lady Lyndlington.

Being able to write a few strongly worded appeals to various Members of Parliament decrying the continuing miseries of child labour should be just the thing to put today’s events in perspective and calm her for the coming showdown with her mother.

A little more than an hour later, Emma arrived at Berkeley Square and took a table inside Gunter’s, where she awaited the arrival of the two people dearest to her in the world: Olivia Overton and Sara Standish.

Olivia was first to arrive. Smiling as she waved over to her table the tall, angular girl who had a long, plain face and dull brown hair just as she did, Emma felt again the surge of gladness that Olivia had taken the lead and turned three shy outsiders at Mrs Axminster’s Academy for Young Ladies into the dearest of friends.

Inviting them to share her table for dinner one night, Olivia had observed that Emma and Sara also seemed to enjoy books and seemed as uninterested as she was in the conversations about Seasons and husband-hunting that occupied most of their classmates. She then suggested that the three of them would have a better chance of surviving the miseries of school if they banded together.

They soon become inseparable. After discovering the feminist writings of Mary Wollstonecraft and the calls for democracy and social reform of Thomas Paine, they’d decided that, for them, the future would involve working for noble causes, rather than competing for suitors or devoting themselves to securing—and measuring their worth by—the brilliance of the marriage proposals they received.

She and Olivia had just exchanged hugs and greetings when Sara Standish walked in, her plump face wreathed in a smile that magnified the sweetness of her expression. Petite, blonde and curvaceous, she provided a sharp contrast to her friends’ tall angularity.

As Emma settled in beside them at the table, the doubt and turmoil in her heart eased. With her friends to stand by her, she knew she could face anything.

‘I’m so glad you could come on such short notice,’ Emma told them after they’d given the waiter their order. ‘I was afraid you might both be occupied with calls this afternoon.’

‘Your note did take me away from perusal of a quite fascinating book,’ Olivia said.

‘I bargained with my aunt that, if I agreed to attend without protest whatever society events she chooses, I would only have to make calls with her twice a week,’ Sara said. ‘Luckily, today was not one of the designated calling afternoons. But what has transpired that you needed to summon us so precipitously?’

In a few terse sentences, Emma told them about Nullford’s proposal, her refusal and the scene with her maid that had sent her scurrying from the house before it could be repeated, in more ominous tones, with her mama. Though she mentioned in passing her ride in the park, she omitted describing her encounter with Lord Theo.

Not that her friends would tease her about him, or press for more details of the meeting than she chose to relate. In truth, she was a bit embarrassed to find herself so attracted to a man who was exactly the sort of too-handsome, too-charming, too-faithless and too-purposeless gentleman she’s always scorned.

Even thinking about Lord Theo made Emma feel edgy and unsettled. So she would just stop thinking about him, she told herself.

‘You escaped before your mama could take you to task for refusing Mr Nullford?’ Olivia asked, pulling Emma from her thoughts.

‘Yes. I scuttled off to Hatchards, where I bought some paper and was kindly lent a pen and some space on their counter to write my notes.’

‘But given that the suitor was Nullford,’ Sara said, ‘are you so sure your mama will be disappointed?’

‘Since she put him up to it, yes. After the episode with my maid, I couldn’t bear the prospect of sitting still while she scolded me for my foolishness, then wondered for the millionth time why I fail to see the necessity of marrying so apparent to every other female, and then worked herself into a deep despondency, worrying over what will become of me. I hope later to use this incident to persuade her to finally accept that my vision for my future is quite different from hers and get her to agree to release me from the social obligations of the Season. But I’ve no hope of doing so before we go through the ritual of outrage, puzzlement and despair.’

‘At least you know she does care about you—even if she cannot understand you,’ Sara said.

Olivia reached over to press their friend’s hand. After her daughter’s birth, Sara’s mama had taken to her sofa, claiming her health prevented her taking any further part in society. There, she received calls from select gossipy friends and the various physicians and apothecaries summoned to treat her latest ailment, while delegating all responsibility for managing her daughter’s future to her sister, Sara’s aunt, Lady Patterson.

‘Yes, and I do appreciate that she’s sincerely concerned about me,’ Emma replied, ‘which is why I have so far tolerated yet another Season, when I would much prefer to be done with it and set up my own establishment. Oh, to be able to come and go when and where I please, without dragging along a maid or a footman!’

‘I know,’ Olivia said, sighing as well. ‘Though we are all more than one-and-twenty and could legally access the funds to establish the household together we planned at school, it’s turned out to be not nearly as easy as we envisaged. Merely mentioning the possibility of our hiring a house is enough to set Mama off in a swoon.’

‘Even we must recognise that our families will suffer a good deal of scorn and pity for producing daughters with such odd, unfeminine aims,’ Sara said. ‘I’m sure your mama genuinely believes that choosing not to marry and giving up your place in society would mean not just censure for her, but ruin and heartache for you, too.’

‘Another point on which Mama harps,’ Emma agreed. And one Mr Nullford had stressed. ‘Sadly, none of us can escape the burden of appreciating our families’ sensibilities, no matter how much their expectations conflict with our own wishes.’

‘I have no intention of “appreciating” my family’s sensibilities to the point of marrying, just to spare them distress,’ Olivia replied acidly. ‘Bound to a husband for whom I feel at best a tepid respect? Ending up a wife either neglected in favour of prettier, mindless females like the ones we knew at school, or scorned for having the temerity to display my intelligence and work towards political goals? Never!’

‘I’m not suggesting we give in to society’s pressure and marry,’ Emma replied. ‘Only that withdrawing from society to live and work together, as we envisaged at Mrs Axminster’s, will have to be deferred a while longer.’

‘How much longer?’ Olivia asked, frustration in her tone. ‘Until all family members likely to be embarrassed by us have passed on?’

‘Certainly not that long!’ Emma said, giving her friend a rueful smile. ‘I remain hopeful that I may escape by the end of the Season, perhaps even before. Especially after the contretemps over Mr Nullford, which Mama is sure to bewail as perhaps my last chance to wed.’

Inwardly wincing again, she refrained from disclosing Mr Nullford’s hurtful remark about her desirability.

‘Nullford!’ Olivia said scornfully, shaking her head. ‘Only a female who believes any husband is better than none could seriously consider wedding that blockhead. And for someone as intelligent and perceptive as you to marry such a man…it would be a travesty!’