Page 64 of The Viscount's Promise
“Yes, I did,” Daphne replied with a smile of her own.
They sat in companionable silence for a time. Emily eyed her thoughtfully. “I must say, this is a wonderful novelty, having you here with me while there is so much gaiety below stairs. Truly, I don’t think I’ve seen this much of you since this house party began. I should have fallen into the river long before now.”
Daphne bent and scratched Bach’s long ear. He gave a happy groan and tilted his head, providing Daphne better access. She laughed. “Yes, you great beast, you will get plenty of love from me for helping to save my sister. You are a hero, you know.” She leaned back in her seat and looked intently at Emily. “And Lord Morley as well. We are indebted to him for his part in your rescue.”
Emily flushed. She pressed a hand to her cheek before quickly checking the automatic response and dropping it uselessly back to her lap. “If we are doling out medals of valor for heroism, we must not forget Sir Tristan. I’m grateful he came back with help.”
As she hoped, Daphne’s smile softened. “Yes, he was quite impressive, wasn’t he?”
Emily paused. Then, “Sir Tristan seems a good man, Daphne.”
“He is.”
“You seem to like him very much.”
Daphne’s eyes glowed. “I do.”
Emily smiled widely. “I’m so glad.” She cleared her throat. “He would make any woman a fine husband, I’m thinking.”
Daphne sighed happily. “I think so, too.” She gazed at nothing in particular for a time. Then, quite suddenly, she blinked, dispelling the dreamy expression. “But I have forgotten what I came here for. Mama wants to know if you’ll be down for dinner or if you wish for a tray to be sent up?”
Immediately thoughts of Malcolm came rolling over her. She nearly blanched. “Please have a tray sent up. I’m not quite ready to go into company. With the fall into the river and all.” Which was complete poppycock, as she had never felt more fit. Physically, at least. Her mind, however, was another matter entirely.
But Daphne nodded her head in understanding. “I do hope you don’t catch a cold. That would really be too bad. Especially with tomorrow night.”
Emily frowned. “Tomorrow night?”
“The ball, of course.” She looked at Emily with wide eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. It’s all any of us have been talking about for the better part of a week.”
She had absolutely forgotten. Hadn’t she been distracted in the last few days by a dark rake with kisses that had melted her reserve, exposing her heart in the most vivid, painful way?
Not that she would have ever looked with any excitement on the evening. There was nothing worse to her mind, after all, than a grand social evening. “No,” she replied, “I don’t think I’ll attend. I need the rest.”
“Oh, that truly is too bad. I had so hoped you would be there.” Daphne appeared completely crestfallen. “It’s the final night of the house party, after all, and everyone leaves the following morning. We shall not meet with most of them again until our trip to London in the spring.”
Emily felt as if her heart took a dive out of her chest and straight to the floor. She was incredibly slow today. Of course the ball meant it was the final night of the house party. Which meant the guests would be leaving the following day. All of them.
Malcolm included.
Loss settled hard and heavy in her gut. As much as she wanted to be free of his presence, the thought of him actually leaving, of having to go on without him in her life, was devastating.
But no, she would not dwell on that. There was a much more important, much more crucial matter that must be dealt with. Tomorrow night was her last chance to pair Daphne with Sir Tristan, her last chance to stop the dreaded trip to London. Pushing all thoughts of Malcolm aside, she instead concentrated on the repercussions of the departure of his friend. If she missed the ball, she would have lost her one chance to ensure an engagement between Sir Tristan and Daphne.
Her sister gave the dog one final pat and rose, heading for the door. “Well, I shall go to Mama and tell her that you won’t be joining us tomorrow evening, then.”
“Wait!”
Emily hadn’t realized how loud her voice was until her sister nearly jumped out of her slippers. Even Bach’s head snapped up, his one eye flying to her, comically wide in surprise. Daphne placed a hand over her heart. “My goodness, Emily, you nearly scared me to death.”
She had to go to that ball. The thought ripped the very breath from her lungs. Daphne stood silently, a question in her eyes. Emily forced herself to breathe. If she didn’t say it now, she might lose her nerve. It’s for the greater good, she told herself bracingly.
Finally she managed to blurt, “I’ll be going. To the ball tomorrow, that is. Please tell Mama that I’ll go.”
Daphne seemed not to hear the latent panic in her voice. She beamed. “Will you really?” At Emily’s hesitant nod she clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is wonderful. I’m so happy. You’ve nothing to worry about, it will be glorious. I’ll even help you ready yourself.” To Emily’s surprise, Daphne rushed forward and gave her a quick hug. “You won’t regret it.” And with that she was off.
Emily stared after her, dread settling on her shoulders. She looked down at Bach. He looked steadily up at her. As their eyes met, he gave a soft woof, his wet nose pressing into her hand. She ran her fingers over his smooth head and muttered, “What in the world have I done?”
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