If nothing else, he would have an opportunity to settle several estate matters that required his personal attention; his steward had been begging him to come north for months.
Once there, he would bury himself in work and strenuous activity. He would wear himself out so that he could sleep again at night. Sleep without dreams of Emma to plague his mind and weary his soul.
He would strive as he had never done before to forget and find a way to go on without her.
Chapter 16
“You look splendid, Emmaline,” her brother told her the following evening as he escorted her and Sigrid up the steps of Carlton House, the London residence of England’s prince regent.
It had been decided that this evening’s ball would take place there rather than the stodgier and far less impressive confines of St. James’s Palace, where she and her siblings had made their first official court visit earlier that afternoon.
“The place is a deuced barn,” the regent had confided after their meeting with the aging queen, ceremonial metals and ribbons glinting on his plump chest. “But Mama insists on maintaining the old protocols and Parliament is too stingy to grant me the funds to build a proper palace. So I thought Carlton House would do for tonight’s fete. I do hope you’ll agree once you see what I’ve done with the place. Holland’s work, don’t you know,” he added proudly, puffing himself up in a way that threatened to pop the buttons on his waistcoat.
No, Emma had thought. She did not know, nor did she particularly care. All she wanted was to get through the evening and return home.
Wishing now to avoid any concern on Rupert or Sigrid’s part, she smiled at her brother’s compliment, forcing her mouth into what felt like an unnatural shape. “I am glad you approve.”
And indeed, the dressmaker had more than earned her wage. Designed with an eye for the current fashion, Emma’s gown was made of the purest white silk, gold embroidery stitched in a geometric design along the rounded neck and the edges of the elbow-length half sleeves. The skirt hung in a straight line from beneath her breasts, ending at her ankles in a dramatic flounce that was decorated with sprays of purple violets, small white diamonds sewn in the center of each bloom.
“How could I fail to be enchanted?” Rupert returned her smile, his strong, square jaw flexing at the movement, his midnight blue eyes serious and sincere, as was his way. “You and Sigrid are a credit to our family and our nation. The pair of you shall put all the other ladies to shame this evening.”
Sigrid laughed, looking urbane and sleek in bloodred satin, her dress designed to draw every eye in the room, particularly the male ones. “As we should. After all, this reception is being held in our honor. I fully expect to be the center of attention.”
Rupert gave a ruefully amused shake of his golden head. “I suppose I ought not to complain. You and Emma can dazzle our friends while I strive to convince our detractors not to stand against us.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Sigrid stated supportively. “Rosewald is far too valuable an ally. Besides, why do you think I loaned Emma my favorite diadem tonight? As you said, she and I will dazzle.”
But Emma had no interest in dazzling anyone, concentrating instead on keeping a polite smile on her face and exchanging the requisite niceties with everyone to whom she was introduced. Given the fact that she and her siblings were indeed the evening’s guests of honor, they took their places beside the prince regent in the receiving line.
For the most part, those invited to attend proved friendly, if curious, many commenting or inquiring about her country. A few braver individuals remarked on her lack of an accent, one older gentleman saying that she sounded more English than most of the English ladies he knew. Not at all offended, she explained about her English-speaking nannies and her years spent at Countess Hortensia’s Academy in Scotland.
After nearly forty minute of greetings, she’d had enough. During a small lull in the line’s progress, she turned to Rupert to make her excuses. To her consternation, she discovered him still deeply involved in conversation with a gentleman she knew to be the Austrian ambassador. Surely Rupert could save what was certain to be a lengthy discussion for later, when he and the other man could withdraw to a more private location to converse over liquor and cheroots?
Vaguely she heard the majordomo announce the next person being presented but failed to catch his name. Muffling a sigh, she pasted another smile on her face and turned to acknowledge whomever it might be.
She looked up and froze.
For the space of four full seconds her heart ceased to beat as she stared into a pair of stormy gray eyes—familiar, beloved eyes that she had last looked upon after sharing a passionate, lingering kiss.