Page 38 of Lady Emily’s Matchmaking Mishap (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #5)

Chapter Nineteen

Emily was back in her room, wondering if it had all been a dream. And if not, whether she was completely out of her mind. Pretending to be in a fake engagement with the Duke? Was she mad?

She’d just sold her soul.

But all she was to gain in return! Financial security. Meadowview Cottage. Her home! And Cissy didn’t even have to marry the Duke. She realised now that it had been a short-sighted plan and that it would never have worked. A real marriage between them would have been impossible, given the difference in their status. Sooner or later, their deception would have been discovered—at the latest when it came to signing the marriage register. Their marriage would have been invalid and the scandal that would have ensued would have been unimaginable! Through this pretence, all this unpleasantness could be avoided. Cissy didn’t have to ruin her life, and they still gained Meadowview Cottage. If she pretended to be the Duke’s betrothed, it would only have to be for a while. They would simply call off the engagement at the end of the Season. The Duke would go on his travels, and when he returned a few years later, all would be forgotten. Lady Poppy Featherstone would disappear, never to be seen again. She could finally go back to being ordinary Emily White and live happily ever after in her own little cottage.

It appeared to be a sound plan.

Then why was there this nagging feeling that it might be too good to be true?

“Let’s announce the engagement at the ball,” the Duke had suggested. Since it was as good a time as any to announce it, she’d agreed.

It was a mad plan, for sure.

Would his aunts be convinced? If not, what could they do? Certainly nothing that would have serious consequences for them—but if the Duke was to be believed, they would unleash their full arsenal and assail him with every eligible young lady in London.

Poor man! An involuntary grin escaped Emily.

But what about London? She and Cissy had avoided London until now, not wanting to risk running into someone they’d known under another identity. What if they did, and she was exposed in public? The scandal would be unimaginable, and it would certainly be uncomfortable for them and Cissy. But in that case, her engagement would simply end earlier than expected. She could still disappear and take a new name.

“What do you think, Emily?” Cissy turned in front of her. She wore a low-cut silk dress with small sleeves and playful flounces at the hem that allowed her to show off a trim ankle. “Isn’t it pretty? The colour is dazzling and seems to change when the light hits it.” She twirled. Indeed, the fabric did take on a slightly greenish hue as she turned.

Miss Ingleton had graciously agreed to lend Cissy one of her ball gowns, so that nothing would stand in the way of them attending the ball. “I shall be glad to help! And even better if someone gets to wear my blue dress, since I have fairly made up my mind to wear rose—it’s ever so en vogue,” she told Cissy the next day. “It will suit you most charmingly! And I have a peach dress for you, Lady Poppy,” she'd added.

Emily was wearing that peach dress now, but to her it made no real difference what she wore. It flowed better than other dresses she’d worn, but her figure would never have the slender, long elegance of a classic column that was so in vogue these days. She looked more like a triangle.

“I have hips,” she shrugged, as she turned in front of the mirror. “It is as it is and there is simply nothing one can do about it.” Her hips were perfect for carrying babies, water buckets or turnip baskets. A farmer’s wife would be delighted with them.Emily had long since made peace with the fact that she’d never embody a fashion ideal, and that was that.

“My lady looks right lovely. Shall I tell you a secret, m’lady?” the abigail whispered, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“By all means.”

She leaned in close and whispered, “Men mostly like women with a bit o’ curve.” She winked. “I’m sure His Grace does, too.”

“Molly!” Emily squealed. She normally wasn’t easily scandalised, but for some reason, she definitely was now. “I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

Emily put her hands on her hips. Then she glanced at Cissy, who was busy across the room with another maid, choosing ribbons, and had missed the whole exchange. “How do you know?” she whispered.

Molly laughed. “Lawks, m’lady, when His Grace was doing up the house, he told them to put all the Raphael paintings where folks could see them better and to take down all the old ones. Said he didn’t like looking at those flat medieval folks and much preferred curvy women. His very words.” She giggled.

Cissy turned to look at them. “What’s so funny?”

Emily kept a straight face. “Nothing. There, we’re ready. Let’s go.”

“You look particularly lovely tonight, Emily,” her sister took her hand. “There’s a glow about you that wasn’t there before.” She tilted her head to one side. “Don’t you think so, Molly?”

“Oh, aye, quite, m’lady,” Molly replied cheerfully.

His three aunts were in the middle of a lively debate when he strolled into Aunt Araminta’s drawing room. He paused behind them as they sat on the sofa with their backs to him, listening to their debate.

Aunt Mabel, contrary to her normally shy nature, was arguing passionately. “I still say that love should be the deciding factor in choosing a bride. If we put too much emphasis on genealogy, we eliminate the majority of eligible ladies. The only thing that really matters is love.”

“Be that as it may,” Aunt Jane countered, “a bride cannot simply be a nobody. Family and breeding are paramount. Sentiment has never been the cornerstone of marriage among our kind, as you well know.”

“Which is precisely why I never married,” Aunt Mabel replied. “Politics, family name and business are poor substitutes for genuine affection. I know my position is unconventional, but I stand firmly by it.”

Jane sniffed and lifted a finger. “If we disregard family altogether, we might as well open the floodgates. The noble name must be preserved.”

“Indeed,” Aunt Mabel shot back, her voice tinged with uncharacteristic sharpness, “but if we insist on the family name above all else, we narrow the field to only two families—neither of which has suitable ladies.”

“Not to mention,” she added, her eyes narrowing slightly, “the dangers of inbreeding. That is a very real problem in our circle. What do you think, Araminta? You have been unusually quiet on the subject.”

Araminta, who had been embroidering as she listened to the debate in silence, cut the thread with a pair of scissors and put them aside before replying. “I think you are both right. Shocking, I know. I have always believed that the family name is the most important factor in choosing a bride. But a marriage without affection isn’t quite right either. Just look at how Jasper’s parents lived.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “I wouldn’t want that for Jasper. Not in a million years.”

“I’m relieved you feel the same way.” Mabel shot her a grateful look.

“But still, a complete nobody?” Jane pursed her lips. “It’s too much of a risk.”

“Why don’t you let the boy have his say?” Mabel said.

“Has he made up his mind?” Jane asked.

“If he hasn’t, he must be ignorant or blind or both,” Araminta grumbled.

“He certainly has,” Wolferton said from behind them.

“Jasper!” the three aunts said in unison as they turned.

“I hear you are busy discussing my marriage options.” He sat down beside Aunt Mabel and took her hand in his. “I am certain you are keen to know on which pair of boots I have settled.”

“Horrible metaphor, Jasper,” Mabel said with a shudder.

Araminta raised her quizzing glass. “Well, who will it be? I would have put my money on Lady Lydia, with all her beauty and charm. But then Miss Cowley seemed the most determined to win the prize. That lady is a little too ambitious for me, I must confess.”

“It’s certainly not Miss Cowley,” Jane agreed.

“No, there is only one lady you have ever had eyes for,” Mabel interjected quietly. “I pray she is the one you have chosen.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly.

“Well, who shall it be?” Araminta barked as he hesitated.

To cover his sudden onslaught of bashfulness, he shrugged to feign nonchalance. “Aunt Mabel’s right.”

Mabel gripped his hand tightly. “I am? Of course I am,” she said breathlessly.

“The only one you seem to eat up with your eyes every time she walks into a room. Don’t think we haven’t noticed,” Jane sniffed.

“Well? A name, please,” Araminta insisted. “Is it Lady Poppy Featherstone?”

He had no idea why he suddenly felt a hot blush creep up his neck; these were his three aunts, for heaven’s sake. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Poppy it is.”

“Excellent choice.” Mabel beamed at him.

Araminta set aside her embroidery. “I’m glad you finally made a choice, of course, as I didn’t think I’d live to see the day, but it does raise the question of who she is.”

“Exactly,” Jane said with a frown. “Her background is somewhat unclear. Featherstone is not a name we’re familiar with. I couldn’t find her in Debrett’s. Are you sure she’s not a fortune hunter?”

“I am certain. You have nothing to concern yourselves over,” Jasper replied firmly. “Please trust me. My secretary in London is already looking into the matter. As far as I know, she comes from a distinguished and perfectly suitable family. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Very well, Jasper,” Araminta said, inclining her head. “That’s all we need to know. We’ll trust you in this matter. Now, about the betrothal—what are the plans?”

“I intend to announce it at the ball,” Jasper said. “Until then, may I ask you to keep this to yourselves? I would prefer to break the news in person.”

His aunts exchanged glances and nodded. “As you wish,” Jane said.

The officers of the garrison had already arrived, filling the ballroom with their scarlet uniforms. The music was playing and Emily was immediately approached by an officer as she entered the ballroom.

She danced a reel with him, which she found herself enjoying. Emily hadn’t had much opportunity to dance in the past. She allowed herself to enjoy every minute of it now.

Wolferton did not dance. He stood at the entrance, greeting the guests. His aunts stood beside him, similarly dressed in stately grey silk. Lady Dalrymple wore a feathered turban, and Lady Jane a formal evening cap of lace, while Lady Mabel had nothing at all in her hair.

“Save the midnight waltz for me,” he’d told her earlier. “We’ll make the announcement immediately afterwards.”

Emily’s heart pounded in anticipation. When she wasn’t dancing, her foot kept tapping the floor, which some gentlemen interpreted as a desire to dance, so they approached her and asked for her hand in the next dance. She always said yes, because it was worse to stand around and be a wallflower.

Cissy danced as well, but she limited herself to the more measured, less vigorous dances, avoiding all the lively reels and taking breaks to rest between sets.

Emily watched her, wondering if she could set her up with someone else, now that the Duke was out of the picture.

Where was Chippendale? He was dancing with Miss Ingleton at the moment. Though he’d seemed infatuated with Cissy at first, he’d made no move to suggest his interest was more than fleeting admiration. Perhaps he needed a little help? A little push?

Cissy returned from her dance, heated. “It’s quite hot in here,” she fanned herself.

“Come, let’s go out on the balcony and get some fresh air. I’m quite stifled myself.” Emily took her arm and led her to the balcony doors.

“Are you well, Emily?” Cissy asked. "Your cheeks look almost feverish."

“Quite.” The best was yet to come, but Cissy would find out sooner rather than later. “I’ve been dancing too much, I suppose. Aren’t you a bit chilly out here?” She rubbed her arms. “I must confess, I am. Wait here, I’ll be back with our scarves.” Emily went inside to fetch her cashmere shawl from the back room.

On her way back, she saw that the dance had finished and Chippendale had returned with Miss Ingleton on his arm, laughing. He bowed and handed her back to Hamish, then strolled off towards the card room.

Emily intercepted him before he spent the next hour or so playing cards.

“My lord.”

“Lady Poppy. Are you enjoying yourself?” He smiled pleasantly at her.

“I am, indeed. I was just out on the balcony with my sister. Only the night air got a bit chilly, so I went to fetch our shawls.” She hesitated a little before continuing. “Would you mind taking them to my sister, as Lady Dalrymple requires my attention?”

It wasn’t even a lie, for Lady Dalrymple had been waving at her for the last five minutes or so.

“Gladly,” Chippendale said, taking the shawl from her arm.

Emily watched with satisfaction as he walked to the balcony where Cissy was waiting.

With any luck, there would be more than one engagement announced tonight. At least one of them might be a real one.

“You’re positively glowing, child.” Lady Dalrymple examined her through her quizzing glass.

“So is Wolferton,” Lady Mabel murmured. All four heads turned towards the Duke, who was surrounded by a group of women, each no doubt expecting to be the next one chosen for a dance.

“He is beset by women,” Lady Jane said with a frown. “It can’t be good for him, all that vanity. It can’t be good for anyone, really.”

“I do disagree,” Araminta countered. “Though he gives the impression of being somewhat annoyed, I doubt it will have any ill effect on his character. If anything, all this attention seems to leave him entirely unmoved.”

“I quite agree,” Mabel chimed in. “As the past has taught us, he doesn’t give his heart away easily.”

Emily perked up. “Indeed? He’s fallen in love before?”

Mabel nodded. “Indeed. Had his heart broken. When he was but a young, green boy.”

“So it was a while ago.”

“Hasn’t been the same since,” Jane chimed in, direct and to the point, as always.

Emily blinked. “How odd. I mean, he must have pined for his lady for a long time if it took him so long to get over her. It is most unusual.” Emily found it hard to believe that a man like the Duke could have had his heart broken in the first place. If he had a heart, it must be cold, hard and smooth, like marble, and completely unbreakable.

“She must have been quite a lady,” Emily added quietly.

“We didn’t meet her, but he told me about her. He always lit up when he did. She must have been a lovely little thing,” Aunt Mabel said softly.

“What happened?” Emily’s curiosity grew.

“I believe his father found out and put a stop to it. He hasn’t been the same since.”

“How sad,” Emily whispered.

“Yes, but these are all Jane’s conjectures, and it’s all long in the past. Let us not speak of this any more. It isn’t appropriate.” Araminta said, bringing the conversation to an end.

It was midnight when the orchestra played the waltz. Wolferton walked over to Emily and bowed. She licked her lips nervously. Everyone’s eyes were on them.

Emily put her hand in his before he led her to the dance floor.

She was surprised that he was a good dancer and that they danced well together. For someone who avoided it as a rule of thumb, he danced rather well.

When the dance ended, he stayed with her on the floor, holding her hand in a firm grip.

Her mouth had gone dry.

“If I could have your attention, please. I have an announcement to make,” he said in a calm, clear voice.

Her stomach churned with nervousness.

“Hear, hear,” Chippendale replied with a grin.

“I am pleased to announce that Lady Poppy Featherstone and I have decided to become engaged.” It was direct and to the point, no-nonsense and, in short, the most unromantic announcement she’d ever heard.

There was a collective gasp. Whether it was dismay or joy, Emily couldn’t be sure. The three aunts looked pleased but not surprised.

Lady Dalrymple nodded. “We expected it, of course.”

Miss Cowley’s face grew longer and longer and she pouted.

Chippendale clapped, followed by the rest of the guests. “Is anyone really surprised? Well done, Wolferton.”

Emily blinked. What did he mean? Was anyone really surprised? Was everyone expecting it? But why?

Her sister Cissy pushed through the crowd and threw her arms around her neck. “Oh, I’m so glad!” she whispered into her ear. “I can't say I'm surprised, though. But isn't this the best solution? A true love match, and look, it happened all on its own. I am so, so happy for you, sister dear!”

Emily hugged her back, with the strange feeling that people were far happier for her than they ought to be. The three aunts dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Chippendale and Hamish approached to pump the Duke’s hand, and Miss Ingleton rushed forward to embrace her after Cissy had released her. Only the three pastel girls looked as if they were about to burst into tears, and Miss Cowley looked furious.

It’s only a ruse, Emily felt compelled to call out. None of this is real! But seeing the joy on his aunts’ faces made her feel both guilty and touched at the same time.

Her hand trembled in Wolferton’s large one. He tightened his grip.

What on earth had they done?

As Emily stared at the aunts’ delighted faces, she was struck by a startling clarity that left her breathless: a desire, a longing. If only it were real...