Chapter 15

“Ido not know why you agreed to dance with Lord Wellbridge!”

Emma rolled her eyes as she, Martha, and their mother all sat quietly in the drawing room, waiting for Lord Wellbridge to call. He had written a short note earlier that day stating his intention to come to visit and, of course, Martha had done nothing but express hope and delight ever since.

“It was not as though I could have refused, to do so would have been unforgivably rude.”

“Yes, you could have refused him, and you ought to have done!” Martha railed, pinpricks of color in her cheeks. “It was foolishness to see a wallflower dancing with a gentleman.”

“You ought to have refused him,” Lady Follet agreed, quietly. “Though it all went well, at least. That is a good thing.”

“By that, you mean that Emma did not fall to her knees or trip over someone else,” Martha stated, a little coldly. “It cannot happen again, Emma. If Lord Wellbridge asks, then you must refuse him.”

Emma lifted her chin.

“Why must I?”

Martha’s eyes flared.

“Because–”

A slight rap at the door had them all straightening with Martha’s face holding an expression of anticipation rather than frustration. Lady Follet called for the butler to enter and though he did come in at once, he was followed by none other than Lord Yeatman, rather than the expected Lord Wellbridge.

Emma quickly got to her feet, finding her face growing warm as he smiled directly at her. She could not help but smile back at him, her happiness growing with every moment. Suddenly, all that her sister had said about Lord Wellbridge – and all that she had been about to say – disappeared from Emma’s thoughts completely.

“Lord Yeatman.” Lady Follet curtsied as Emma and Martha did the same. “Good afternoon. Please, do join us.”

“Thank you.” Lord Yeatman took the proffered seat and then smiled again at Emma. “Good afternoon, Miss Fairley. Might I say that you are looking exceptionally lovely this afternoon?”

Her heart beat a little more quickly and though she could tell she was blushing, she did not look away.

“I thank you. I–”

“Lord Wellbridge, my Lady.”

The butler, who had been told to permit Lord Wellbridge entry the very moment he arrived, interrupted Emma’s conversation and again, she rose to her feet and forced a smile as Lord Wellbridge came into the room. She curtsied, he bowed and greeted them all, though she caught the way his gaze lingered on Lord Yeatman.

“Again, it seems, we have come to call on the same young ladies, Lord Yeatman!” Lord Wellbridge exclaimed, coming to sit down as Lady Follet clicked her fingers to the butler, who quickly disappeared to have the tea tray brought in. “Forgive my intrusion. I do hope that I have not interrupted your conversation or the like?”

Lord Yeatman tilted his head, though his gaze slid to Emma.

“We were only just beginning a conversation,” he said, with a smile. “It is nothing that cannot be continued.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Lord Wellbridge beamed, looking around at them all. “I have come to say just how wonderful the ball was last evening. I very much enjoyed dancing with you both.”

“It was a wonderful dance,” Martha sighed, as Emma kept her smile pinned to her features, wondering when she would be able to speak to Lord Yeatman again. “I do look forward to another dance, should you be so willing?”

Lord Wellbridge chuckled.

“I am certain I shall be, Miss Fairley,” he agreed, as the tea trays were brought in. “There was nothing remarkable about either dance now, was there?” His gaze went to Emma who started in surprise, realizing that he was speaking about her dance with him and how nothing of concern had happened. “That was something of a relief.”

Emma looked away, grateful when Martha got to her feet to serve the tea. Whether unwittingly or not, Lord Wellbridge had embarrassed her, and she did not want to acknowledge it in front of the others.

“Miss Fairley?”

She looked up, seeing Lord Yeatman’s eyes searching hers.

“I am quite all right,” she said softly, hoping that her sister’s serving of the tea would keep them from hearing her. “I am well.” Knowing that he understood and that he was concerned for her, she smiled as warmly as she could. “It is good to see you.”

“I have just come from speaking with your father.”

Emma’s smile fixed itself in place.

“My father?”

Something chinked and Emma looked up sharply, only to see Martha’s flushed face as she set down the teacup and saucer in front of Emma. Some tea had spilled into the saucer, which was something of a mishap – though Emma was not about to take her sister to task over it.

“Yes, I spoke to Lord Follet because I should very much like to court you, Miss Fairley.”

This time when he spoke, Lord Yeatman’s voice was a good deal louder as though he wanted everyone to hear him. Emma’s whole body suddenly flushed hot, then cold, and then hot again, her eyes fixed to his. Courtship? Lord Yeatman wished to court her? She knew that there was an interest there, a consideration yes, but courtship was a good deal more serious than that. It was a consideration of their future, a look towards engagement and marriage… and was that what he was offering her?

“You… you wish to court Emma?”

Emma turned her head, looking into her mother’s face, seeing the same wide-eyed, astonished expression as she was sure she was wearing.

“Yes, that is so.” Lord Yeatman smiled and spread his hands wide. “I am sorry that I must ask in such a fashion when everyone is together, but I found I could not wait.” Looking back at Emma, he sat a little further forward in his chair in clear expectation. “I should have waited to speak to you at the next social occasion we shared together, but my desire to ask you was a good deal too strong for me to hold back. Forgive me for that.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Hearing the hoarseness of her voice, Emma clasped her hands tightly together, aware that she was shaking slightly. “Are you quite certain, Lord Yeatman?”

“That is a question that I should like to ask also.” Emma did not turn her head but found herself frowning at her sister’s sharp voice. Whatever was she doing in asking Lord Yeatman such a thing? “You are aware of her reputation, I presume?” Martha laughed harshly, the sound ripping the joy away from Emma’s heart. “Why, you will have to be very cautious every time you step out with her! She may trip over her own feet, just as she did in the Park when you were out walking together.”

Emma closed her eyes, her shoulders rounding and her head dropping forward. She did not know what it was that her sister was attempting to achieve by saying such a thing but, all the same, it burned through her regardless.

“Martha, please!”

Much to Emma’s relief, her mother spoke up, silencing Martha.

“Do excuse us, Lord Wellbridge,” Lady Follet continued, as Emma shot the gentleman a quick look. “This is a little unexpected, so you must forgive our lack of decorum!”

Lord Wellbridge was frowning hard. His eyes were set on Lord Yeatman’s and were, in fact, a little narrow. Emma could not understand it, wondering perhaps if the gentleman was irritated that Lord Yeatman had interrupted the conversation that had been flowing between himself and Martha.

“Not at all. I can see that this is a surprising development… surprising for myself also.”

“Miss Fairley?”

Lord Yeatman’s voice was quiet now, catching her attention and pulling it back towards himself.

“Yes?” When she looked back into his eyes, it was as though the rest of the world had fallen away. It was only the two of them, only the soft, blue eyes searching hers as he smiled tenderly, perhaps already aware of the answer she would give.

“Would you accept my offer of courtship?” he asked, as Emma’s fingers tightened in her lap all the more. “I know it is a little unexpected but–”

“Yes, of course, I shall accept!”

Lord Yeatman beamed at her, and it took all of Emma’s inner strength not to get to her feet and hurry over to him as though, somehow, they might begin their courtship within this very room! The desire to be in his arms, though she had never been granted such a privilege before, was so strong, that it quite stole away her breath and Emma suddenly looked away, fearful that such a desire would be written into her expression.

“How wonderful!” Lady Follet clapped her hands, sounding genuinely delighted as Emma smiled across the room at her. “That is truly delightful! I am very pleased to hear you accept, Emma. After all, it is not as though you were to receive any further offers.”

Emma’s smile dropped to the floor.

“I would not have said that.” Lord Wellbridge cleared his throat and smiled, though it did not stretch very far. “Very good, Lord Yeatman. I hope your courtship goes very well.”

Much to Emma’s surprise, Lord Wellbridge suddenly got to his feet, his actions a little hasty and sharp.

“This was the wrong time for me to call,” he stated, sweeping into a bow, his tea and cake forgotten. “I shall take my leave and permit this happy moment to be captured by you all. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Emma echoed, though Martha stepped forward, as though to catch Lord Wellbridge’s arm to pull him back. Martha spoke Lord Wellbridge’s name, but all he did was turn his head, throw her a smile, and then continue to make his way from the room. Emma’s heart softened in sympathy for her sister as Martha resumed her seat, her shoulders a little rounded, though she kept her head high and her chin lifted.

“That was most considerate of him,” Lord Yeatman murmured, as Emma smiled at him, appreciating his warm compliment of Lord Wellbridge, and knowing that it would mean something to Martha. “Now, Miss Fairley, might we now consider what we shall do first? An ice at Gunther’s, mayhap?”

Emma clasped her hands tightly together again, her smile stretching right across her face as she nodded. That was a joy she had never before experienced, and certainly never with a gentleman!

“That would be wonderful.”

“Tomorrow?” Lord Yeatman looked at Lady Follet. “Would tomorrow afternoon suit?”

“But of course!” Lady Follet exclaimed before Emma could answer. “Tomorrow afternoon would suit very well. I can take Emma in the carriage and will make sure to stay a distance away though she will still be properly chaperoned.”

Lord Yeatman smiled.

“But of course. I am looking forward to enjoying that ice with you, Miss Fairley.”

Wishing she could express just how happy she was about their expected outing, Emma offered him a smile and then let out a small, contented sigh.

“As am I, Lord Yeatman. It cannot come soon enough.”