Page 1 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter One

London, England – January 1817

Emma Follett had no desire to be dragged around a crowded London ball, but because the one doing the dragging was her dearest friend, Laura Roberts, Emma tried to be a little more amenable.

“I’m so glad Mama convinced Mrs. Dunn to let you come with us tonight,” Laura whispered over her shoulder as they hurried through the crush of people in the dimly lit corridor. “I thought for certain I wouldn’t be able to see you for a week at least.”

“She sounded quite relieved to be rid of me, actually,” Emma said. “I might be a touch livelier than her old bones anticipated.”

Emma did not intend to speak ill of her patroness––Mrs. Chrysanthemum Dunn had made the comment about old bones herself. Indeed, Emma was lucky her grandmother’s friend had taken pity on her situation, else Emma may never have made it out of her parents’ home at all or had a chance to see London. It was a rare gift for someone with a fallen sister.

The buzz of excitement grew stronger as they neared the ballroom itself. The cold of the winter air was long forgotten when confronted with the warmth of the bodies filling the room, the sour stench of perfume, and the hallowed call of the musical instruments from the corner balcony. As Emma took in the scene around her, she found little to amuse or entertain. Each character could be read in an instant, their goals and desires almost palpably read on their sleeves:needing to marry off a daughterordesiring a wealthy bride of excellent breeding. Their intentions were crystal clear and obvious; it wouldn’t take any scientific mechanics to figure out what was happening here. Of course, Emma was not without goals of her own, which was what had brought her to London in the first place, but her needs were not so mercenary. She didn’t require expansive wealth, title, connections, or even an estate. All she sought was a simple man of good character. Someone to bring honor back to her family name.

Someone willing to overlook the sins of her family name entirely.

But Emma was not looking for herself tonight. Without Mrs. Dunn constantly looking over her shoulder, Emma was free to be a supportive friend for once, instead of a debutante on display. And Laura was in desperate need of a friend.

“I promise, Emma, I’m so nervous I may very well faint clean away!” Laura’s whisper was one of barely contained glee.

“And you’re certain he’ll be here tonight?” Emma asked.

Laura nodded emphatically. “If I know him at all, and I’d like to think I do, he wouldn’t miss this for the world. There’s nothing more he likes than a crowd full of people at the beginning of the season.”

He sounded rather pompous, in Emma’s opinion, but she kept her thoughts to herself. If Laura wanted to set her cap at a vain gentleman, then she hoped he was just as good and kind, but Emma doubted it.

“Has he not called before?” Emma asked.

“No. I’m sure he would have sought me out if he knew how to contact me, but it’s not his fault. We all left the house party in something of a rush, as there was some misunderstanding between the dowager duchess and the duke, so I didn’t have time to say any proper goodbyes.” Laura frowned. “And then I had to spend the whole of last year at home with Mama because she had grown ill, and we couldn’t come to town. How miserable it was without even a chance at the season.”

Again, Emma held her tongue. She knew what it was like to not have a chance at a season. Many years over.

“But no matter. Tonight we’ll finally have the chance to reconnect, and I can scarcely believe it!” Laura’s words were animated, but her face screwed into a disappointed frown. “I just haven’t caught a glimpse of him yet. Come, let’s find some refreshment at the drink table and perhaps that will provide us a better vantage of the room.”

Emma followed obediently, even though she had no desire for a drink or a better view. They retrieved glasses of lemonade, and Laura went on talking about how she’d met this love of hers at a house party, a story Emma knew forward and backward after hearing it repeated so many times over the last year. Luckily, Emma caught a glimpse of something that provided her with her own distraction.

The house was decorated with all the expensive finery one could imagine at the beginning of the London season, but Emma didn’t find any of it appealing. Instead, over the heads of the glittering wealthy with their pearls and feathers and top hats, through the doorway and on the opposite side of the corridor, Emma noted the doorway to a library. The promise of books was her siren call. All her books had been left behind when she’d made her journey to town, at her father’s insistence. “You must hide your bluestocking tendencies at least until you’ve found yourself a match,” he’d said. “Don’t reveal it until you’ve secured a marriage contract. You’re our last hope.” Of course, Emma knew her responsibilities. The weight of her family name rested on her, but that didn’t erase the temptation of her one passion…

“Emma, there he is!”

Laura’s firm grasp shook Emma from her thoughts. Trying to follow her friend’s gaze, Emma found a group of two young ladies and three gentlemen. One set of them were man and wife, for the woman on his arm clearly adored him. Another young miss looked timid, alongside a gentleman with kind eyes. Emma filled with dread when her eyes rested on the last man of the group, for she was certain he was the man Laura had her heart set on, and he was undoubtedly a proper rogue. Charming smile and playful eyes, evident even from across the room. Long hair, almost to an indecent length, but styled perfectly, along with a flawless coat and cravat. It was just as Laura had said; he was out to enchant the entire room.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Laura set down her drink, then straightened her dress and pinched her cheeks. “Come with me?”

Emma hesitated, knowing it was a rash move for London society, but as long as they were in view of Mrs. Roberts, perhaps there was no harm. “Of course.”

Making a smooth transition across the room, Emma held her breath, nervous for her friend and the kind of man she’d focused on but wishing her success all the same.

Once they grew close enough, Emma watched in embarrassment as Laura reached out and patted the gentleman’s shoulder with her fan, then rather loudly said, “Good evening, Mr. Godwin.”

The man was slow to turn and face her, but he glanced between Laura and Emma a few times before saying, “Good evening, ladies. Have we met?”

What little hope Emma had for Laura’s sake instantly deflated. It wasn’t a cut direct, but it certainly wasn’t the warm welcome that her friend had surely anticipated. Poor Laura’s face turned pale and crestfallen, and though she opened her mouth to explain, no words came out.

Thankfully, the elegant woman nearby swatted the guilty Mr. Godwin with her fan. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is Miss Roberts, who attended the dowager’s house party with us.”

Laura gave a half smile. “Yes, thank you. How do you do, Miss Hastings?”

The lady flushed. “Actually, I’m the Duchess of Norland now.”

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