Talk of the Ton (Free Fellows League 5)

At the end of the Ladies Auxiliary meeting, Emily watched Mrs. Becket clear the cake plates. She moved lethargically, as if she had been dealt a tremendous blow. It was strange, Emily thought, as she gathered her gloves and reticule, that it did not bring her the pleasure she had imagined. It seemed as if the woman had been mortally wounded, and she imagined how the vicar might find her Sunday morning, sprawled in the church’s kitchen, an arrow through her heart, the very life bled out of her.

The image was so strong that as she walked down the street, lost in thought, her mother mistook her silence for fretting, and put her arm around Emily, drawing her in close to her side. “You mustn’t fret, Daughter,” she whispered reassuringly. “Lady Cheevers is quite right. The rumor never would have carried so far if there were not some truth to it. It was obvious to all in attendance at the May Day Ball that he held you in highest esteem. Lady Southbridge said he looked after you quite lovingly.”

Only because she had told Lady Southbridge that he had.

“Now when your father returns from the country, he’ll pay a call to Montgomery and determine what he’s about.”

A knot formed in her belly; Emily looked down at her feet.

“There, now,” her mother said again. “Your father is quite adept at this sort of thing. I’d wager by the time he leaves Lord Montgomery’s study, his lordship will wonder why he waited so long to make an offer for the fair Emily Forsythe, mark me.”

Unless, of course, his esteem of her had been manufactured and planted in her mother’s head, just as it had been deviously planted in every feminine head among the ton.

But then again, Emily thought brightly, perhaps the gems of gossip she had left behind in all those drawing rooms might somehow work together to convince Lord Montgomery that he did, in fact, esteem her as he ought. Perhaps, when her father called, he’d be begin to see it, and if not, her father would help him to see it. She imagined Montgomery imagining her walking through a field of flowers, a garland in her hair, and resisting the urge to run to wherever she might be at that moment.

She lifted her head, smiled at her mother.

“Ah, there’s my darling! The world is a much brighter place when you smile, Emily. I am quite certain that Lord Montgomery noticed it instantly the night you came out. I recall that he watched you very closely the entire evening of your debut,” she said, and seemed firmly convinced of it.

Perhaps, then, Emily thought as she marched alongside her mother, her plan wasn’t so very far-flung after all. Perhaps she had only aided the inevitable.

Chapter Ten

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, Darien was feeling a bit frantic. He’d not been successful at seeing Kate since the day of the picnic. His calls to her house were rebuffed by her father, who said she was, alternately, ill, indisposed, then ill, then indisposed.

He could not begin to understand why she might be avoiding him. The afternoon they had spent in the old boathouse had been the most blissful of all his days on this earth, and he was at a loss to understand how she couldn’t feel at least a bit of that, too.

Naturally, he imagined all manner of things—she regretted their lovemaking (but what living, breathing adult could regret that fantastic experience?); she had been found out by her father (but the chap seemed rather cheerful, all in all); or that she was truly ill (but she had been the picture of health).

Nothing made sense.

One thing Darien knew in all certainty—she’d not miss church services, and that morning, he donned his finest clothes and strode to church quite early. So early, in fact, he arrived before the vicar.

As the other parishioners began to arrive, he stood on the church steps, watching closely for Kate, greeting friends and acquaintances rather gruffly so that he’d not be engaged in some lengthy conversation and miss her slipping by.

His best friend, Freddie, found his behavior insupportable. “I’m not in the habit of remarking on your bad manners

, my lord,” he said with a sniff, “but that was the prime minister you just cut.”

“I have no doubt that the prime minister will recover from any perceived slights,” Darien said, scanning the crowd.

“What in the devil has you so wrought?” Freddie demanded. “I’ve not seen you this way in all the years we’ve known each other!”

Darien said nothing but managed more of a smile for the Forsythes as they climbed the church steps toward him.

Freddie followed the direction of his smile and laughed. “Aha! I should have known that the rumors are true, eh, Montgomery? You’ve set your heart on a female, have you?”

“W-what?” Darien stammered and jerked his gaze to Freddie; his first awful thought that Freddie somehow knew about Kate. “What did you say?”

Freddie laughed again and clapped him soundly on the shoulder. “You needn’t be coy with me, my friend. You are, after all, quite human, and therefore, it stands to reason that even you, a confirmed and steadfast bachelor, might find happiness with a budding debutante. I daresay you’ve chosen one of the comelier ones. Dear God, there were some frightfully ugly ones in this year’s crop, but I’ve quite admired this one myself.”

It took a moment for Darien to understand what Freddie was saying, then found it incredulous that his oldest and dearest friend could possibly believe that a man of his years and experience would be smitten by a mere child such as Miss Forsythe.

“My lord!” Mr. Forsythe called.

Darien forced himself to turn and greet the Forsythes cordially, and as he did so, he couldn’t help but look long and hard at Miss Forsythe. He supposed she was pleasant enough, but she could not have been more than seventeen, perhaps eighteen years of age. She blushed furiously when he looked at her, and clasped her hands tightly together while her beaming mother proudly looked on, and her father herded the family inside.

Freddie chuckled again. “Rather shy, ain’t she?”