Page 59 of The Viscount's Promise
Tristan settled the young woman into the skiff. Malcolm was much too far away to separate them now. He could imagine what he would look like, sprinting down the green toward the riverbank like a madman, launching himself into the boat to prevent Tristan from pushing away from shore.
It was apparent that avoiding Emily was not benefitting anyone. She was simply getting into more mischief, causing more trouble. Despite the pain it gave him to even look on her, he could not afford to let her have free rein in her little matchmaking scheme a moment longer.
Straightening his shoulders, he marched down the gentle, grassy slope near where Emily stood, her hands clasped before her, her dog at her side, watching with obvious pleasure as Tristan and Lady Daphne pushed out into the middle of the River Spratt. There were other couples out on the water already, and a tent had been set up for those who had no wish to try their luck in the small crafts. Half the guests of Willowhaven were looking on, watching the proceedings, and so he need have no fear that Tristan would do anything stupid with the girl.
But for every moment Tristan had alone with her, he was one step closer toward a foolish future he could not return from. And with the final ball the next evening, the chance of that happening was becoming more and more likely. Malcolm had to get out there, to distract them from one another. Something had to be done to stop this mess that Emily was creating.
One of the small boats, with Lord Andrew Masters and Miss Mariah Duncan aboard, was pulling up to the bank as Malcolm approached. Miss Duncan, he noted absently, looked sweetly flushed. He touched the brim of his hat as he passed the young couple and made to step into their vacated boat. Lady Tarryton’s strident voice, however, brought him up short.
“Lord Morley,” she called, hurrying toward him, a dainty parasol held over her head to shield her skin from the warm afternoon sun, “you cannot take that out by yourself.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, praying for patience, before opening them again and facing the viscountess. “I cannot?”
She gave him a faintly condescending look. “You will need to take a young lady with you if you’re to go on the river. There are rules, after all.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I was not aware there are rules to rowing on the river.”
His officious tone, however, didn’t affect the woman one bit. She smiled at him. “Most assuredly we have rules. If we did not, society itself would fall into chaos.”
Malcolm was completely without recourse to that line of thinking. So his not taking a lady out with him on the river was likened to the collapse of civilization as they knew it? He looked at her sure expression and wondered for a fleeting moment if they were in Bedlam. Perhaps, he thought a bit wildly, that infamous institute for the insane was now a lovely country house, and he had been unwittingly tricked into staying there.
She compounded upon that thought a moment later as she looked about at the surrounding females. “Let me see,” she murmured, “I do believe we can find a partner for you among the ladies present. Ah, I know: my daughter Mariah. She has just returned from a trip on the river with young Lord Andrew. I’m sure she would love to accompany you.”
Damn it, the woman was back at her matchmaking attempts again. A vague sense of being trapped set in as he watched Lady Tarryton turn to her daughter. He wouldn’t put it past her to force the girl into a compromising position to attain what she wanted. He had the panicked thought that, if he allowed Miss Duncan into the boat, Lady Tarryton would hold him prisoner like a spider with her prey.
“Ah, I do apologize, my lady,” he called, even as she took her daughter aside, “but I have promised to bring another lady out on the river with me.”
Lady Tarryton’s eyebrows rose, as if to question the rightness of his mind in preferring another to her offspring. “Oh? And who might that be?”
His gaze careened desperately about, searching for anyone else he might drag into this farce. Suddenly he spotted Emily, standing a short distance away. Looking right at him. As his gaze met hers, he stumbled and stopped. She flushed, her formerly pale countenance turning rosy.Damn, but she was beautiful. His heart fairly ached from the sight of her.
But he could not lose possession of his hard-won control. The past two days had been difficult enough. With effort, he wrenched his gaze from her.
Lady Tarryton, however, caught the exchange. “You cannot possibly mean Lady Emily, my lord?” she scoffed.
Immediately everyone in the vicinity went still. Miss Duncan, aghast, was attempting to calm an irate Drew. Several others stopped to stare in unabashed disbelief.
Malcolm hardly saw it for the red haze that obscured his vision. Yes, Emily had fairly broken his heart. But that did not mean he wished to see her trampled on by Lady Tarryton, or anyone else, for that matter.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said, his voice pitched to a deadly calm, “but I don’t think you could have possibly meant what you implied by that statement.”
To her credit, the viscountess looked appropriately embarrassed. “Certainly not, my lord,” she stammered, looking in wild desperation at Emily, who stood frozen a dozen feet away. Her eyes dropped to Bach at her feet, before lighting with relief. “I merely meant,” she continued, “that she has her dog with her, and would not wish to leave him ashore.”
It was a flimsy excuse at best and only inflamed Malcolm’s fury. “Oh, I think the animal is brave enough to join us.” He turned to Emily. “What say you, my lady? Do you think that beast of yours is capable of joining us?”
Her silver eyes flared wide in alarm. For a moment he thought she would balk and miss out on the chance to redeem herself in front of this obnoxious woman.
As luck would have it, however, it was Lady Tarryton herself who decided Emily’s fate.
“You cannot think to bring that creature on board with you,” she fairly screeched. “Why, he is damaged, compromised due to the loss of that eye. He will tip you for sure.”
At Lady Tarryton’s brash words, Emily straightened to her full height. She stuck her chin out, her eyes going cold as she considered the older woman. “I assure you,” she said with quiet precision, “that there is nothing at all the matter with my dog. I do believe, my lady, that you underestimate him.” She turned to Malcolm, her bearing conveying all the grace of a queen. “Lord Morley, thank you for inviting us, we should love to join you.” With that, she marched past a gaping Lady Tarryton.
Malcolm took hold of her hand and helped her into the small boat, then reached down to heft Bach in beside her, all the while staring in awe at Emily. She was more alluring than ever. His plan to keep watch on Tristan had suddenly taken a dangerous turn, he realized. How much of a struggle would this little fiasco be, to keep them all in the boat and afloat, but to keep his emotions from going overboard as well?
• • •
Emily settled into the bow of the little skiff, suddenly feeling all the folly of her brash actions. That she should have allowed Lady Tarryton to bully her into going along with this mad scheme was idiocy at its worst. Bach sat at her feet, apparently unaffected by the rocking beneath him, and tilted his head back to look at her steadily. Taking comfort from his calming presence, she dragged in a deep breath of the warm summer air and attempted to relax on the hard wooden bench. Just then, the boat tilted precariously as Malcom joined them. She tensed, fighting the urge to grab at the sides of the craft. Instead she laid a steadying hand on Bach’s back and attempted to look unconcerned. This was her pride on the line, after all.
