Page 9

R iding in the carriage on the way to the Duke and Duchess of Westport’s London residence with Emmeline were her mother and her cousin, Henry Weston’s widow, Lady Liliana Langford.

After Henry’s nephew, Edmund Weston, arrived to take over the earldom, he had said harsh and hurtful words to Lilly.

Refusing to stay under the same roof with such a despicable man, whom she’d just met and who accused her of nefarious deeds, she had moved into Emmeline’s home with her.

During her brief marriage to Henry, she and Lilly had become fast friends, and Lilly had known she was always welcome in Emmeline’s home.

Lilly and Emmeline had spent the past nine months keeping each other company and preparing for the Season. It was past time Emmeline made a real appearance in Society, and Lilly insisted on joining her since her year of mourning was over.

They shared a special bond that would never be broken, no matter where they ended up in life.

They both had the misfortune of being young widows and childless—no baby to raise and ease their broken hearts.

And it didn’t matter that Henry was sixty-six at the time of his death any more than it mattered that Aiden had been twenty-three.

Dead was dead. Widowed was widowed. A lost love was a lost love.

Her thoughts now drifted to Andrew, who she knew was back in London after all this time, and wondered if he would notice her tonight.

And why would he look her way at her old age of twenty-eight?

Not with the young debutantes and the ladies in their second or third Season available.

He would need an heir now that he’d inherited from his father.

Even if they somehow became close again and married, could she give him one?

Nonsense, she scolded herself. Many women had children well into their thirties. But would he think her worth the risk?

“You have become quiet suddenly,” Lilly said.

“Forgive me. I was thinking about whether a certain gentleman would be in attendance tonight. He is in partnership with Langford and Caldwell, and since they are both in London, perhaps he is as well.”

Her mother humphed. “You know he will be.”

“He may be in attendance, but he may not want to see me.”

“Do you think I don’t remember two young gentlemen vying for your affections ten years ago? I will never forget you crying in my arms, trying to decide between the two. As I understand, he never wed. And you are a widow, beautiful and kindhearted. He will be there tonight. Approach him.”

“But he’s a duke now. A duke. He needs a young bride to give him heirs.” She had only known him as the Earl of Quincy, but right before he’d returned to London, his father had passed making him the new Duke of Blackstone.

“Heirs,” her mother flicked her wrist, “which you can give him. Nothing says he cannot marry a young widow.”

“Thank you, Mother, but I think you are biased. He is good friends with the Earl of Langford. I highly doubt the new earl speaks kindly of me anymore.”

“Why ever not?”

Inhaling deeply, Emmeline held her breath for five counts, then exhaled.

She did this three times. “Because Lilly has been staying with me. Not to mention the fact that Langford hasn’t been in London for several years, and when he was last, he wasn’t very friendly to me.

I’d married one of his closest friends. I think he blames me for Aiden’s death.

As though I caused the horse to throw him off to his death.

” Emmeline gasped for breath, removed her delicate handkerchief from her reticule, and dabbed at her teary eyes.

“Perhaps the duke thinks the same about me.”

Lilly leaned forward and grasped her hands.

“Nonsense. Nobody blames you. How can they? From what you told me, they were with him during the tragic accident, not you. They were the ones who got inebriated during a hunting party and decided to race willy-nilly on horseback without regard to any of their lives. You were back at the estate having tea with the other guests.”

“Oh, dear. We have arrived,” Emmeline said as she held Lilly’s hand, giving them the courage to do what others did so easily: enter Society. “We can do this. We will stick together, hold our heads high, and ignore any whispers if there are any.”

“We can do this,” Lilly agreed as she squeezed her hand.

Emmeline stepped inside the Westports’ ballroom.

Once they were announced, she linked her arm with Lilly’s.

It was the first significant social event she had attended in six years.

Bees swarmed inside her stomach, and she was more nervous than when she’d had her come out at the Westports’ ball her first Season.

The night she met Aiden, Andrew, Weston—now Langford—and Caldwell.

Who could have known when that night began that their lives would be intertwined forever?

Her expectations had been high as a young debutante.

She still had high expectations tonight ten years later.

Tonight, her future happiness and her heart were at stake. Her new purpose was to convince Andrew, the previous Earl of Quincy, now the Duke of Blackstone, that he still loved her. It would not be an easy feat after the events of the last time they saw each other and the things he had hinted at.

That night and his words were seared into her brain. She relived his words over and over again until she had begun to believe that she was perhaps responsible for her husband’s death.

“Where did your mother go?” Lilly asked.

“To sit with the older ladies and watch us young folks dance and socialize. Let us take a turn around the room,” Emmeline said.

She guided Lilly and they joined a line of people promenading around the outer circumference of the ballroom.

While they strolled, Emmeline reminded Lilly about the rules and etiquette required at a ball and about rogues.

“What about the rogues?” Lilly said in a panic.

“If I see any rogues heading your way, I’ll warn you.” Emmeline patted her hand. “You’ll be fine.” Her steps faltered, forcing Lilly to stop. Emmeline recovered quickly and they continued.

“What is it?” Lilly asked.

“Quincy... Blackstone. Dressed in navy. Staring daggers at me.”

“Who is the man with him with the dark wavy hair and dressed in charcoal and black?”

Emmeline led them off to the side of the room. “Do you need spectacles?”

Lilly giggled. “No. I see perfectly. Why?”

“That, my dear Lilly, is Langford.”

“Henry’s nephew? The new earl? That’s impossible. I met him. Surely I would remember what he looked like.”

“Don’t panic, but here they come.” Emmeline squeezed her hand, causing Lilly to wince.

“Please let go of me,” Lilly squeaked out.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“Mrs. Fitzpatrick.” Blackstone’s gaze—intense and uncomfortable—never left her face. Emmeline didn’t offer her hand, but he reached out and took it nonetheless and bowed most gallantly. She had the feeling he was mocking her.

He dropped her hand, and Emmeline curtsied, her eyes downcast. “Your Grace.” As she stood, she looked at him, trying to decipher his mood while she drank in the sight of him.

When she had seen him last, he’d looked dreadful and on death’s door.

He had been unhealthy and angry at his father and her.

The man standing before her now was the epitome of health.

His hair was lighter than she remembered, and his skin was tanned, no doubt from his time at sea.

His green eyes were guarded but clear. He stood taller than most men and filled out his jacket well.

From what she could tell, he’d put on weight and muscle. He’d been gaunt before he left London.

She presented Blackstone to Lilly and Blackstone re-introduced her to Langford. It was all quite awkward. Shortly later, after they made small talk, she found herself alone with Blackstone as Lilly and Langford danced. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.”

“I heard you invested in Mayfair Imports and Exports, and the business is thriving.”

“Yes. My father throwing me out was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Yes, well,” she said, fiddling with her fan as her nerves got the best of her. “I’m happy for you.”

Leaning close, he whispered, “Are you?”

Why was he goading her? In the span of ten minutes, he had glowered, smirked, and sneered at her.

Never mind what his eyes conveyed: a confusing combination of dislike, hunger, and indifference.

How was she to know what he really felt?

She didn’t have the chance to answer his question as Lilly returned to her side, and Langford hurried away, looking angry.

“Why did he run off?” Blackstone asked with a knowing smirk. He bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies. I should seek out my friend.” Emmeline’s eyes followed him until he ducked through the glass doors to the veranda.

“Tell me what happened,” Emmeline said.

It transpired that Langford had asked Lilly why Henry had married her, and Lilly had intimated that it had to do with his desire to have a more suitable heir. Emmeline laughed at that.

“What a little devil. I didn’t realize you could lie so easily.”

Emmeline and Lilly strolled arm and arm out of the ballroom making their way to the drawing room in search of refreshments.

After partaking, Lilly danced with the Duke of Westport.

Emmeline did not have time to warn her about his lechery, and she felt terrible for Lilly as she watched him leer down the front of her gown and drool.

“May I join you?”

Instant awareness of Blackstone’s deep, smooth voice wrapped around her, making her overly warm. “By all means.”

“You and the countess seem quite close.”

“It has been nice having her stay with me. I haven’t had a close friend since Catherine and I were young.”

“How is the Viscountess of Appleton?”