Chapter 13

Emma did not know what had happened. One moment she had been walking slowly away from the group back towards the path and the next, surrounded by those who had been a part of the group, she had found herself on the ground.

Her knees stung, her palms ached and no doubt, her gown was ruined. The strong arms that helped her up and the whispered words of concern in her ear were something of a balm, but her injuries were more than just outward.

“I am so ashamed,” she whispered, finding herself leaning into the strength that Lord Yeatman provided. “Forgive me, Lord Yeatman. I have embarrassed you.”

“Embarrassed me?” Lord Yeatman’s arm was around her shoulders now and though Emma was vastly appreciative of his comfort, she could not bring herself to look into his eyes. “You have done nothing of the sort. Are you quite all right?”

Emma dared a glance down at her gown and, much to her surprise and relief, there did not appear to be any real damage. Yes, there were a few marks and stains from where she had fallen, but there were no rips or tears. That was a good thing, at least. Her gloves, however, had not fared as well.

“Oh dear.” Wincing, she pulled them off carefully, seeing the tears which would have to be repaired. Either that or they would need to be replaced entirely. Her palms were very red indeed, but there were no cuts or scrapes to be seen.

“I shall replace them for you.” Lord Yeatman took them from her without a word and then placed them in his pocket before returning his attention fully to her. “Can you walk?”

She nodded.

“Where are your mother and sister?”

Finally able to lift her head, Emma looked all around but could not see them. What she did see, however, was two of the ladies looking back at her, with one whispering behind her hand to her companion, who then turned to look directly at Emma without even a momentary hesitation. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, mortified that such a thing had happened yet again.

“I see them.” Lord Yeatman took her hand and set it on his arm. “There they are, just ahead of us.”

Emma swallowed sudden, threatening tears, and walked alongside Lord Yeatman, doing her best not to look at any of the other lingering gentlemen or ladies.

“Mayhap they did not see me stumble.”

Lord Yeatman looked at her.

“Is that what happened? Did you stumble?”

Hesitating before she answered, Emma slowly shook her head.

“I cannot say for certain, Lord Yeatman. I do not know exactly what happened. Everyone was walking away, and I was taking only a few small steps to permit you the opportunity to continue your conversation with the lady you were speaking with when…” Closing her eyes for a moment, she shook her head. “I am so very sorry.”

Lord Yeatman stopped suddenly, the surprise forcing her to look into his face.

“No,” he said softly, though his face was set with a firmness which surprised her. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong.”

“I brought shame upon myself by my ungainliness,” Emma said, tears still threatening. “I did not mean–”

“I do not think you did anything.” Lord Yeatman still spoke with a steady determination in his voice which Emma had no choice but to listen to. “Recall, we both believe that there may be someone who is attempting to do this to you for whatever reason, do we not? Why, then, should you think that your falling is simply your own doing?”

Emma’s heart slammed hard into her ribs as she looked back into Lord Yeatman’s face and saw his eyebrow lift just a little.

“I… I had not thought of that.” In her mortification and shock, she had not thought for a moment that she could put the blame upon someone else. Instead, she had taken the full weight of it onto her shoulders. “But that would mean that someone here, someone who was present–”

“Deliberately did such a thing, yes.” Lord Yeatman continued to walk, albeit a little more slowly this time. “That is rather significant, do you not think?”

“I suppose that it is.” Emma sniffed lightly, aware of the ache in her knees, but finding that her heart was a little lighter. “Goodness, I had not thought that it would be someone present here.”

“Though while that does simplify things a little, it does still leave us with a significant number of gentlemen and ladies. Did you know most of them?”

“All of them,” Emma replied, slowly, going through every face present and recognizing that yes, she had been acquainted with them all. “Though we can safely discount Lord and Lady Pleasance.”

At this, Lord Yeatman laughed aloud and that made Emma smile, despite her mounting worries.

“Yes, that is quite true,” he agreed. “They would do nothing to injure you.”

“Then who would?”

Lord Yeatman’s smile faded.

“I do not know. Though I should suggest that if you can, you write a list of those who were present, for that should help you.”

Emma nodded slowly.

“I can do that.”

“Lady Sophia did not appear to be particularly enamored of your presence,” Lord Yeatman said, though he waved one hand as though to dismiss what he had said. “That is not to say that there was anything that you had done to cause her dislike, only that–”

“I understand what you mean,” Emma said quickly, not wanting him to become upset on her behalf. “What did she say to you when I was walking away?”

Lord Yeatman’s face flushed, and he scowled.

“She spoke of my wealth and asked why, given that, I would then consider walking with a wallflower. I found her condescension almost more than I could bear! In fact, had I not heard you cry out, I would have said a few very firm things to her without hesitation!”

Emma smiled and leaned a little closer to him.

“Then mayhap it is good that I required your help, Lord Yeatman.”

There was something in his expression that made her heart leap, though she could not quite understand it. Was the softness about his eyes something that spoke of tenderness? Or was it merely sympathy?

“I am only sorry it happened,” he said, after a few moments of silence. “Though I am glad that you are quite all right.” There came a slight flicker in his eyes as he held her gaze. “Might you wish to walk with me again on another occasion, Miss Fairley?”

The hope in his voice and the light in his eyes made her heart squeeze as a sudden warmth rushed right through her.

“You would like to walk with me again, Lord Yeatman?” She knew the moment that she said those words that it had been a foolish thing to ask, given the way that his eyebrows lifted, but her surprise was so great, she could not help it. “Even after everything that happened today?”

“Yes, of course.” Lord Yeatman’s voice was warm and wrapped around her in gentle comfort. “Despite what happened today, Miss Fairley, I should very much like to spend more time in your company.” He tilted his head a little closer to her. “I do not think you clumsy or ungainly or the like. I do not believe for a moment that you are responsible for such things. Therefore, Miss Fairley, I should very much like to become better acquainted because, while I do have an eagerness to be of aid to you, and I certainly want to make sure that you are not treated unfairly, there is a genuine interest within my heart.” He smiled. “Does that please you?”

Emma could hardly find the words to speak, given how much joy had suddenly flooded her. She nodded, her throat constricting.

“Yes, Lord Yeatman. I… I confess that I am quite delighted by it.”

“Good.” With a smile, he reached across and patted her hand as it sat on his arm. “But I shall still be watching you at any soirees and balls and the like, Miss Fairley. You need not doubt that.” He glanced at her. “Are you to attend one this evening?”

Emma nodded.

“Yes. Lord Shuttleworth’s ball.”

“Then I shall be present there this evening,” he said, firmly. “And you can be sure that if anything untoward happens, I shall be fully aware of it.”

“You look very lovelythis evening, Emma.”

Emma blinked in surprise as her mother came to stand beside her.

“Mama?”

They had only just entered the ballroom, and Emma had fully expected her mother and sister to distance themselves from her almost immediately. Instead, Lady Follet had lingered, now tilting her head to regard Emma a little more.

“Yes, very lovely,” she said, as though she needed to confirm that to herself. “I do not know what it is you have done, but there is a fresh beauty to you this evening.”

“I quite agree, Lady Follet.”

Emma, caught by surprise by the low voice behind her, started in surprise only to see Lord Wellbridge coming to stand by her mother and sister. He was wearing a broad smile and Lady Follet immediately laughed, though Martha did not so much as blink, as her adoring gaze was fixed upon the gentleman.

“Good evening to you,” he said, inclining his head to each of them in turn. “How fortunate I am to have found you so soon upon arriving at the ball! I must beg for your dance cards, of course.”

Martha quickly pulled hers from her wrist and handed it to the gentleman though Lord Wellbridge then looked to Emma with clear expectation written on his face.

Emma blinked.

“You… you wish to dance with me?” she stammered, her face growing hot. “Are you quite certain?”

“But of course! Why should I not?”

“Oh, Lord Wellbridge!” Martha put one hand on the gentleman’s arm, shaking her head lightly as she looked up at him. “Surely you cannot have forgotten what happened the last time you stood up with my sister? She has decided to stay back from dancing precisely because of that reason!”

The heat in Emma’s face intensified, spreading down through her chest and she lowered her head, not able to look at either her sister or the gentleman.

“Ah, but what sort of gentleman would I be without forgiving and forgetting – and giving second chances?” Lord Wellbridge laughed, making Emma lift her head in surprise, seeing the very same astonishment etched across her sister and mother’s faces. “Come, Miss Fairley, I think it would only be fair for me to give you another opportunity.”

“Well…” Seeing her mother’s eyes flare and uncertain whether it meant that her mother wished her to accept or reject Lord Wellbridge’s offer, Emma took the dance card from her wrist. “Very well, Lord Wellbridge. I thank you.”

Martha shot her a dark look, but Emma could say nothing to her. Both her mother and her sister had expected her to refuse, but Emma had chosen to accept – surely anything else would be rude. Evidently, that had been the wrong decision.

“Wonderful. Then the country dance, Miss Fairley.” Lord Wellbridge smiled and then handed Emma back her dance card. Emma took it with a murmur of thanks, though her stomach twisted with nervousness as she did so. “And the cotillion for you, Miss Fairley.”

He handed Martha her dance card. Emma went to return her card to her wrist, but another voice stopped her.

“Might I also sign your dance card?”

The voice in her ear made Emma yelp with surprise, only to see Lord Yeatman smiling at her.

“Lord Yeatman.” The warmth in her voice was evident even to her, but Emma did not care. The relief of being in his company again filled her as she handed him her dance card. “Yes, of course.”

“The waltz is still free, I see.” Lord Yeatman glanced at her and then signed his name there. “And mayhap the cotillion also?”

Martha coughed quietly, catching Emma’s attention as Lord Yeatman wrote his name for the second dance.

“Two dances, Lord Yeatman?” she asked, as Emma blushed quickly. “My, my. That is… interesting.”

“Is it?” Lord Yeatman sounded rather nonchalant, not responding any further to Martha’s remark. “Lord Wellbridge, good evening.”

“Good evening, Lord Yeatman. We find ourselves in company again, I see.”

“We certainly do.”

Lord Yeatman smiled broadly, though Emma clasped her hands in front of her and squeezed them tightly together, aware of the tension rippling through her. Surely her mother would be glad that Lord Yeatman was offering her such attention? With two gentlemen seeking to dance with her, then surely her mother might consider her to be a little less a wallflower now, surely?

“Ah, Miss Fairley, Lady Follet!”

Emma turned, seeing two gentlemen and a lady approaching, all of whom steadfastly ignored Emma and did not so much as glance at her. The happiness which she had felt quickly began to fade and she took a step back.

“Should you like to take a turn about the room? Or might I accompany you to find your friends?”

Emma smiled briefly, taking Lord Yeatman’s arm, and glancing again at her mother and sister, though neither of them were looking in Emma’s direction. How quickly I am forgotten.

“Lord Wellbridge wishes to dance with you also, then?”

Emma looked up at Lord Yeatman, catching the way that his smile took a moment to spread across his face.

“Yes, he does,” she said, slowly, “though that means very little. He is interested in my sister’s company, as you might very well have been able to surmise, given the time you came to call, and I am sure that he only offered to dance with me as a kindness.”

“I see.” Lord Yeatman’s smile quickly flattened. “He is interested in your sister, you say?”

“Yes, I think so,” Emma replied. “He has often been in her company both in this Season and in the last.”

“But they are not courting as yet?”

Emma’s lips pursed.

“No, not as yet,” she admitted, a slight frown pulling at her forehead. “Lord Wellbridge certainly appears to be interested in her company, for he is always coming to speak with her or dance with her, and he has come to call on her on multiple occasions, but as yet, he has not asked to court her. I am sure that must be something of a trial to my sister, though she has not spoken to me of it.” Seeing the quick look that he shot her, Emma gave him a small shrug. “We are not particularly close as sisters.”

“I can imagine it must be difficult for you, when your sister is favored by your parents,” he said softly. “Though I am glad that another gentleman has sought you out for a dance… though I am delighted that he did not take the waltz!”

Emma laughed at this and then, seeing her friends, turned towards them. Even though she was sure that her mother and sister would have something to say about her dancing with Lord Wellbridge, Emma chose to set that to one side and, for the moment, enjoy everything that this ball had to offer her.

“This dance is going very well, isit not?”

Lord Yeatman grinned at her as Emma laughed softly, glad that the nervousness that had flooded her as she had stepped out to dance was quickly fading.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“And you have not fallen or slipped,” he told her, as the dance continued on, his words ebbing and then strengthening as they stepped away and then came back together again. “Thankfully, neither have I!”

“I do not think that you would have any difficulties in that regard,” Emma told him, though Lord Yeatman chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“You would be surprised to hear of my foolishness, I am sure,” he answered, making her smile. “I have stood on many a toe beforehand, though thankfully, I am a little more careful these days.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Hearing the music begin to slow, Emma concentrated on her last few steps, a little anxious that she might still do something that would cause her embarrassment in the last few moments. The music came to an end without incident, however, and Emma blew out a breath of relief as she curtsied towards Lord Yeatman. He bowed to her and then turned to speak to the gentleman to his right, who had said something to catch Lord Yeatman’s attention.

Making to step closer to him, though the floor was now very busy with ladies and gentlemen stepping this way and that, Emma let herself smile, relieved that all had gone well – only for something to jab in her side. Letting out a loud cry of pain, she spun around in search of whatever it was, only for the same pain to stab at her other side. Another cry broke from her lips but with all of the gentlemen and ladies passing her, she had no notion as to either what was happening, or who it was that had done such a thing to her. Aching spread up her sides and Emma gasped for air, her eyes flicking left and right as she saw the other ladies and gentlemen glancing at her, though many quickly began to whisper together. Emma’s face flamed, though the pain within her still blossomed, and she struggled to even lift one foot from the floor. Soon, she realized, she would be the only one left standing alone in the center of the ballroom.

“Miss Fairley!” Lord Yeatman grasped her hand at once and put it on his arm, though his eyes were searching her face, worry etched there. “Whatever has happened?”

“I – I do not know.”

“You have gone very pale indeed.” Lord Yeatman leaned a little closer to her. “Can you walk?”

“I can, so long as I can lean on you.”

“Of course.” Lord Yeatman began to walk slowly, and Emma went with him, her hand clutching at his arm, a dull pain still running right through her. It eased as she walked and soon, Emma was able to breathe without too much difficulty.

“I am all right,” she said, looking up at Lord Yeatman again, seeing him frown still. “I am sorry for what happened. I did not mean to shriek in that way.”

“What happened?” The low tone of his voice and the way his eyes held shadows made her breath hitch. “Whatever happened, it was done by someone else, was it not?”

She nodded, her heart suddenly sinking low.

“It is the first time I have ever really, truly realized that there is someone determined to make me embarrass myself. I cannot understand why.”

“Nor can I,” Lord Yeatman answered, though his eyebrows lifted just a little. “Might I ask what happened?”

“Something sharp pressed into my side.” Having reached the safety of the back of the ballroom, Emma caught Miss Simmons standing close by and beckoned to her. “And when I turned to see what it was, it caught me again on the other side.”

Miss Simmons drew close.

“I heard you cry out,” she said, reaching out to take Emma’s hand. “Are you quite well?”

Quickly, Emma explained what had happened.

“There was pain down either side of me, though it has lessened in its intensity now.”

“Good gracious.” Miss Simmons’ eyes flared. “Why would someone do such a thing?”

“To embarrass her.” Lord Yeatman rubbed one hand over his face, his expression very dark indeed. “It is clear now that whoever this was, they were determined to do something to have you mortified in front of the ton.”

“And they succeeded, yet again.” Emma closed her eyes briefly, just to keep a hold of her emotions. “I cried out so loudly that even Miss Simmons heard me!”

Miss Simmons squeezed her hand.

“But it was not your fault.”

Lord Yeatman let out a heavy breath.

“It is becoming a little more serious, Miss Fairley. Someone is seeking to injure you now rather than merely embarrass you. What was it that was pressed into your side in such a fashion?”

Emma paused, then shook her head.

“I do not know.”

“You will have to check your gown for any sign of damage,” Miss Simmons suggested, her eyes quickly darting to Lord Yeatman. “Though not here, of course. I–”

“I felt it pierce my skin,” Emma said quickly, sending her friend an apologetic look for the interruption. “Something small and sharp.”

The gasp that came from Lord Yeatman sent his eyes wide as he turned, grasped her hand, and squeezed it hard. She looked at him, uncomprehendingly, wondering at his astonished look.

“Could it be…?” Trailing off, he paused and then nodded as though he were confirming the idea to himself. “Could it be a hairpin?”

Emma’s heart slammed hard against her ribs, and she too snatched in a breath, her eyes rounding.

“It could be, yes!” Miss Simmons exclaimed, answering on Emma’s behalf. “That would make sense, would it not?”

“Yes.” Emma pressed one hand to her stomach, her whole body going suddenly cold. “Which means that whoever is pursuing me in this way, whoever is eager to embarrass me, must be a lady.”

Lord Yeatman nodded, his gaze melding to hers.

“An eligible young lady, for there were no married ladies dancing with us,” he told her, steadily. “That list of yours, the one you made after our walk together in the park, do you still have it?”

Emma nodded, a slight trembling rushing over her.

“Then you may strike every gentleman from the list.” Lord Yeatman’s voice dropped low. “You are even closer to finding the truth, Miss Fairley. Soon, I am convinced, you will find out the name of this person and be done with this matter forever.”