Chapter 9

Emma swung her leg idly as she sat in the drawing room, her gaze on the window and the last few wisps of the day’s light that made its way through it. It had been a sennight since the dinner party and still, through all that time, she had not forgotten about the incident, nor about Lord Yeatman. He had been exceptionally kind to her in speaking to the rest of the guests as he had done, taking the blame for something that absolutely had not been his fault. That had been an act of kindness far beyond anything she had ever experienced and, whilst she had been to a few occasions since then – though still remaining with her wallflower friends – Emma had not been able to forget about him.

A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she thought about Lord Yeatman’s declaration that the spillage had been entirely his own doing. He had been very fervent in his explanation, and she was sure that most of the guests had believed him, even if she had caught Lady Pleasance looking at her with a slightly lifted eyebrow, though she had smiled when Emma had caught her gaze. That was something at least.

“Emma?” Lady Follet came into the room, disturbing Emma’s peace and giving her a disgruntled look which Emma immediately understood to indicate that she did not want to see her sitting so casually. “Are you quite prepared? Why ever are you sitting so?”

“I am ready for the soiree, yes,” Emma said quickly, rising to her feet and smoothing one hand down her skirt. “I have been waiting for my sister to be ready and–”

“I do hope that you have not wrinkled your gown.” With a sniff, Lady Follet beckoned for Emma to follow her. “Your sister is waiting at the door and your father is already in the carriage!”

“No one came to fetch me,” Emma protested weakly, as her mother shooed her out of the room. “If I had known–”

“Do hurry up,” her mother interrupted, firmly. “Now, you know what my expectations are for you this evening, do you not?”

Emma frowned.

“Are they not the same as every other time you have spoken to me?” she asked, her tone dropping a little. “You expect me to stand with my friends. With the other wallflowers.”

Lady Follet ushered her up into the carriage and Emma sat down opposite her sister and beside her father, leaving Lady Follet to take the opposite seat. Lord Follet rapped on the roof and the carriage began to move away and, though Emma thought the conversation was at an end, Lady Follet reached across to catch her hand and her attention.

“We are aware of what the other wallflowers have been doing,” she said, with more severity in her voice than Emma had expected. “For whatever reason, you have decided to join them and we find that to be most displeasing.”

Emma’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline.

“I have been doing nothing wrong, Mama. I am only walking with my friends and conversing with them as I please. Just because society demands that we stay at the back of the room does not mean that this is what we must do.”

Lady Follet released Emma’s hand.

“But it is safer for you, there,” she protested, as though she were seeking to help Emma. “Your father and I do not like it. It is–”

“I am aware of that, Mama,” Emma said clearly, aware that she ought not to be interrupting her mother but finding her heart beginning to quicken with a mixture of upset and a stirring of anger. “I am sure that there are many in society who do not much like to see those that they have designated as wallflowers doing what they believe wallflowers ought not to do.” She glanced at her father but he, much to her relief, had his eyes closed and appeared to either be dozing or paying very little attention to what Emma had to say. “My friends and I do not like simply standing at the back of the room, watching what is going on. We have decided, of late, to simply walk and talk together during whatever occasion we have attended. That is not something I intend to give up.”

Her mother clicked her tongue and shook her head before looking at her husband. Seeing Lord Follet’s closed eyes and clear lack of interest in what was being said, Lady Follet’s shoulders slumped, and Emma looked out of the window quickly, trying not to let a slightly triumphant smile spread across her face. It was not as though everything was going well, despite her attempts to step into society with the other wallflowers. It was not as though gentlemen and ladies turned to greet them, that many were eager to become acquainted with them or dance with them. Most continued to glance at them, then look away again, and some had even turned their backs. It was not the same for every wallflower, however. One or two of Emma’s friends had enjoyed a little more success, though Emma herself was not one of them.

Though Lord Yeatman has not ignored me,she thought to herself, finding herself smiling at the thought. I do wonder if I will see him this evening.

“My mother has showna little displeasure in our acting like this.” Emma sighed and took Miss Simmons’ offered arm as they began to make their way around the ballroom. “She has not said it outright, but I think she should like to order me to remain in the shadows.”

“I am still a little unsure of why you have been determined as a wallflower,” her friend replied, quietly. “For most of us, there is a clear reason – albeit an unfair one in most cases – but for you, there can be nothing said really.”

“Might I interrupt?”

Emma turned her head in surprise, only to see Lord Yeatman step a little closer, a broad smile on his face.

“Forgive me for the interruption, but I thought it right for me to greet you both this evening. It is my pleasure to see you again, Miss Simmons, Miss Fairley. Are you finding the ball pleasant entertainment?”

Miss Simmons sighed and shook her head as Lord Yeatman’s smile grew sympathetic.

“It is rather dull only watching rather than participating, Lord Yeatman, though I must say that it is certainly better to walk and converse and smile at those around us instead of hiding away in the shadows.”

Lord Yeatman’s gaze turned to Emma, his eyebrow lifting.

“Ah, I recall that you explained to me that both you and your friends hoped to break free of society’s constraints as regards wallflowers. Are you having any success?”

“Some.” Emma offered him a smile, finding her heart warming at both his presence and the conversation with the gentleman. “It is trying when most of society rejects your company, I confess.”

“Especially when there is no reason for it!” Miss Simmons exclaimed, gesturing to Emma. “I was just saying to Miss Fairley that I can see no reason for her to be pushed back in such a way. It is most unfair.”

Emma’s face flushed hot as she blinked and then glanced at Miss Simmons. Her friend had inadvertently given more away than Emma had desired and thus, she now found herself in something of a predicament. Ought she to explain to Lord Yeatman the reason behind her situation? Or should she remain silent?

“I should be glad to hear it if you would like to share it with me.” As if he had read her thoughts, Lord Yeatman smiled but then shrugged. “But I will not press you. If you think it best to keep such thoughts to yourself, then I quite understand.”

“Oh, it is for a very foolish reason,” Miss Simmons interjected, waving one hand before Emma could speak again. “I am sure that there is nothing to hide.”

The decision taken from her, Emma coughed lightly and then caught Miss Simmons’ eyes flaring, evidently realizing too late that she had said too much.

“It is foolishness, I suppose,” Emma agreed, pausing for a moment as she looked to Lord Yeatman. “My mother and father have stated that I am rather inelegant at times, as you are well aware.”

Lord Yeatman’s eyebrows lifted, his eyes rounding.

“Do you mean to say that such a thing is your only reason for being pressed back into this situation?”

Rather surprised at the gentleman’s reaction, Emma nodded slowly.

“Yes, that is so.”

“Goodness.” Lord Yeatman lifted one hand to his chin, rubbing at it for a moment as his gaze drifted away from her. “How extraordinary.”

“Though I must thank you for what you did at the dinner party,” Emma said, aware that she had already thanked him, but finding herself compelled to thank him again. “You were most generous. In truth, I do not know what happened, but I can say for certain that it was not your doing.”

Lord Yeatman looked back at her sharply, his jaw a little tight.

“I can assure you that it was not your doing either, Miss Fairley.”

She looked at him and then smiled rather wearily.

“I do not know what happened, as I have said. For whatever reason, however, it appears to me that such accidents follow me. Some are certainly my fault but others…” Aware that she was saying more to him than she had meant, Emma dropped her hands. “It is rather tiring, and I can understand, I suppose, why my parents seek to push me back from society. My sister is also seeking a match and must be considered.”

Lord Yeatman made to say something, only to close his mouth again and give a slight shake of his head.

“It is unfortunate that such a consequence has been placed upon Miss Fairley, is it not?” Miss Simmons, whose cheeks had gone rather red, given that she now understood what she had said, offered Emma a small smile and then looked to Lord Yeatman again. “I personally have not seen any ungainliness from Miss Fairley ever since she became my friend.”

Lord Yeatman smiled, his expression softening as he took in Miss Simmons’ words.

“I am sure that you have not.”

“It seems very unfair that the ton would ignore her,” Miss Simmons continued, making Emma frown at the way her friend was pushing her forward towards Lord Yeatman, though she had never expressed a desire for her to do such a thing. “Though I, personally, believe that it is most unfair for the ton to treat us all in such a way as this!”

“Please, there is no need–”

“No, you are quite right,” Lord Yeatman interrupted, sending Emma a somewhat apologetic smile for interrupting her. “I am quite in agreement with you, Miss Simmons. The ton should not be treating you in such a way, especially for such a foolish reason as supposed clumsiness!”

Miss Simmons pressed her lips together.

“Though there is a different reason for my own situation,” she said, as Lord Yeatman shrugged. “You should be aware of that.”

Lord Yeatman shook his head.

“No, I do not require any explanation, Miss Simmons. What I do require, however, are your dance cards, if you would be so willing as to give them to me?”

Emma blinked in surprise, a sudden thrill rushing up her spine as she glanced at Miss Simmons, seeing nothing but sheer joy in her friend’s expression.

“You… you wish to dance with us?”

Lord Yeatman nodded.

“Yes, I do. Would you like to step out with me?”

Before Emma could respond, Miss Simmons had practically thrown her dance card to Lord Yeatman, leaving Emma to follow suit. When she handed it to him, the smile on his face sent another rush of delight into her heart and she could not prevent the bright smile which spread across her face as he took it from her. This was the first time that she was to dance with any gentleman in weeks and the thought of being in his arms was a somewhat thrilling one.

her feelings were immediately dampened by the recollection of what had occurred previously when she had danced with other gentlemen. She had tripped and slipped and fallen and knocked into other couples. What if that were to happen again?

“Shall we say the cotillion, Miss Simmons?” Lord Yeatman handed the dance card back to the lady and then looked at Emma. “Do you have any preference, Miss Fairley?”

Emma swallowed tightly, pressing her lips flat for a moment.

“I – I should tell you that the last time I danced with a gentleman, there was something of a commotion thereafter.” Recalling that Lord Gibson was friends with Lord Yeatman, Emma closed her eyes for a moment in embarrassment. “Which you are already aware of, I know.”

“I have no concerns and certainly no fear,” he told her, looking down at her dance card. “The country dance, mayhap? Or the waltz?”

Emma’s eyes shot to his.

“The waltz?” The words came out a little strangled, her heart slamming hard into her chest as he nodded. “You wish to dance the waltz with me?”

“Why should I not?”

Miss Simmons caught her breath and Emma, aware of the heat rippling up her face, managed to nod.

“That would be very kind of you, Lord Yeatman. I do not think that I have had opportunity to step out into the waltz as yet.”

“Then I shall be delighted to take it.” Still smiling, he wrote his initials down on her dance card and then handed it back to her. “I look forward to dancing with you both.” With another nod, he stepped back. “I shall permit you to escape my company for a short while, at least. Until later this evening, Miss Simmons, Miss Fairley.”

It was in something of a daze that Emma found herself being led forward, barely able to take in what had happened. Miss Simmons was saying something in hushed and excited tones, but Emma could barely hear her. Lord Yeatman was, she knew, a kind gentleman, but taking the waltz from her seemed to be a little more than a kindness. Was there a flicker of interest there? Or was she reading more into this situation than there really was?

“You must be so very excited!”

Emma blinked furiously, trying to steel herself as she looked to Miss Simmons.

“Excited?”

Her friend nodded eagerly.

“The waltz? The waltz with Lord Yeatman? That is wonderful!”

“Any kind of dance is wonderful,” Emma replied, doing her utmost not to concentrate on the kind of dance he had chosen for her. “To be given any sort of attention is very generous indeed.”

“But the waltz!” Miss Simmons exclaimed, pulling Emma closer. “That gentleman might have something of a consideration for you, Emma!”

Sensing a flare of hope rising in her heart, Emma quickly dismissed the idea before it could take root.

“No, I do not believe that,” she stated, firmly. “I am not particularly well acquainted with Lord Yeatman as yet, but what I do know of him is that he is very generous, considerate, and unwilling to permit society to dictate how he must act. That is all this is. A generous act which is meant only as an encouragement to me.”

Miss Simmons tossed her head, though a smile still lingered on her face.

“I believe it is more than that,” she said, making Emma smile regardless of her attempts to hide that from her friend. “Just think of it! A waltz with a gentleman! How exciting that is going to be.”

“So long as I do not trip and fall,” Emma replied, a little ruefully, “or tread on his toes or knock into another couple.”

“Nothing like that will take place,” Miss Simmons stated without even a second of hesitation. “It is going to be a wonderful dance, I am sure of it.”