Page 99 of Fortune Favors the Viscount
Emilia looked out at the glittering room. The Marchioness of Westmorland had said the party would be small and intimate, but it was not. For one thing, it was in the Duke of Rowland’s Berkeley Square mansion, which was neither small nor intimate. That should have been her first warning, she reflected, when Lady Westmorland mentioned her “little gathering” would be held at the home of her father-in-law, the duke. To Emilia’s eyes, it was far too much.
But one could hardly say that to the hostess.
“It’s beautiful beyond words,” she said honestly.
Lady Westmorland beamed. Tall and slender with golden curls, the marchioness was a few years younger than Emilia, but vivacious and welcoming. “I’m so pleased you think so! This will be my first London party. We spent last summer at Salmsbury, and then the King died.” Her husband was in the Home Office, and so had observed mourning for His Majesty a bit more carefully than most of London.
But she and Emilia had become friends, after the events with Fitchley. Nick had said something vague about Westmorland feeling he owed Nick a favor, but then the marchioness had come to call, and before Emilia knew it, she and the lady were laughing like old friends, calling each other by their Christian names. They discovered they had gone to the same school, only a few years apart, and both had many fond memories of Mrs. Upton’s Academy.
“It’s too kind of you to do this for us,” Emilia began, but Georgiana waved it away.
“Rob and I are delighted to do it,” she said. “We’re both indebted to Mr. Dashwood—that is, Lord Sydenham!” She shook her head. “It will take me some time to think of him that way.”
Emilia smiled ruefully. “I understand.” She still barely remembered to respond when people said “Mrs. Dashwood,” and soon she’d have to remember “Lady Sydenham.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” said Georgiana, “but I’ve invited two of my dearest friends tonight. They were with me at Mrs. Upton’s, and are eager to make your acquaintance.”
“Of course I don’t mind, itisyour party...”
Georgiana laughed. “No, no, it’s for you and your husband! But Eliza and Hastings have only just returned to town—they’ve got a baby boy, and I thought they would never come back from Cornwall—and Sophie and Ware are leaving soon to spend the winter in Somerset. We used to have tea together regularly, but now we’re all married, and seeing each other is so much harder with husbands.”
“I heard that.” Lord Westmorland came up behind his wife and gave her a wicked little smile. “Confiding in Mrs. Dashwood how much trouble I cause you?”
“No one would believe me if I told them all the trouble you’ve caused me,” she replied with a speaking look. She turned to Nick. “Has he recruited you to support his favored bills?”
Nick bowed his head. “He’s tried, my lady.”
Westmorland—who had told her and Nick to call him West—clasped his hands behind him and smiled. There was something a little dangerous in that smile, and Emilia remembered that Arabella had said the marquess used to be a terrible rogue and a rake, before he married. “I think I’ve got him, for Mr. Brougham’s campaign.”
Mr. Brougham was one of the leading campaigners of the abolitionist movement. Emilia knew Nick had given money to support it.
Nick just smiled.
The Westmorlands excused themselves to see to last-minute preparations. Nick drew Emilia to his side, his hand settling at the small of her back. Together they looked again at the decorated room.
Itwasglorious, with walls of robin’s-egg blue, a soaring coffered ceiling edged by a frieze of peacocks and apple trees, and woodwork shining with golden gilt. Large planters had been grouped around the four marble pillars and a few trellises against the walls, with flowering vines trained to climb toward the ceiling. In the light of four crystal chandeliers, the room was stunning.
Small, intimate gathering, indeed.
“I believe Lady Westmorland hunted us quite deftly.”
Emilia smiled. She knew “hunted” meant they’d been tricked, lured into a game they were meant to lose. “She’s not a gambler.”
“You’d be surprised,” he murmured.
Charlotte hurried up to join them. She had been in the retiring room, fixing some drooping curls with the help of one of Georgiana’s maids. “Oh, isn’t itbeautiful?” she said on a happy sigh, gazing at the trellised plants. “I’ve never seen anything lovelier!”
“Is it?” Nick affected surprise. “I’ve been too busy admiring the ladies to notice anything about the room.”
Charlotte beamed. “You should be! Wearesplendid tonight.” She certainly was, with her hair arranged in shining black curls and dressed high on her head. Her yellow silk dress was embroidered with gold spangles that sparked every time she moved, and around her neck she wore a strand of pearls. She was fifteen now, and they had told her she could stay for the first two hours of the party.
Nick gave his sister an approving look, then surveyed Emilia until she blushed. She did feel beautiful in her gown of aquamarine silk with a delicately embroidered gauze overlay. It floated when she moved and made her eyes look like the ocean—or so Nick had said. “Indeed you are,” he murmured. “Magnificent, both of you.”
Charlotte bobbed eagerly on her toes. “Oh, if only Lucy could see this! May I go examine the flowers?”
Lucy had not come; she was at home with her babies. Two months previously, a little tortoiseshell cat had begun visiting the kitchen and mewing for scraps. Lucy and Charlotte had christened her Fleur, and last week Fleur had birthed four kittens under the scullery sink, three of whom bore a suspicious resemblance to Sir Chester. Lucy was in love. In exchange for promising she would practice her French by reading to the kittens every day, Nick had let her bring Fleur and the kittens up to the schoolroom, where they now resided in a large box Henry had built for them.
Emilia had worried Lucy would feel slighted, left out of the party, but she hadn’t even wanted to come. “I think the kittens are about to open their eyes, and I must be there,” she’d declared. “I’ll tell you about it when you get home.”
