Page 40 of An Alleged Rogue

“This is Miss Norton, my lady. I especially wished to introduce her to you as you may have known her parents, Lord and Lady Dunsbourne.”

Emily dropped into a curtsy. Lady Bloxley studied her with critical eyes, and Phoebe held her breath. The music continued to play, and the dancers continued to dance, but all around Lady Bloxley, the air hung silent.

“Your mother was a good friend of mine.” The older lady cleared her throat. “You resemble her a great deal in appearance, Miss Norton. Do you have her same gentle spirit?”

“I do not have any memories of her, my lady—I wish that I did—but I have heard much of her kindness to others, and I would very much like to be thought of in a similar light.”

Lady Bloxley nodded, a slow smile appearing on her lined face. “That is exactly what I would have expected your mother to say.” She reached out her hand to take Emily’s. “Tell me, Are the rose bushes your mother planted in front of Dunsbourne Manor still as vibrant as ever?”

“Yes, my lady. The yellow one is my particular favorite.”

“Ah, your mother also loved that one. For myself, the pink Cristata rose growing beneath the parlor window cannot be equaled.”

Emily smiled. “The ribbon flowers on your gown remind me very much of those blossoms. They are lovely.”

“As are you, my dear.” She released Emily’s hand and waved her toward the dance floor. “Now, off with you. You have far more exciting things to do this evening than to talk about roses with an old lady.”

“Perhaps we can speak of them together another time.” Emily’s voice rang with genuine desire, and Lady Bloxley raised one eyebrow.

“I shall hold you to that, Miss Norton.”

“I sincerely hope that you will,” Emily said.

She and Phoebe bobbed curtsies once more, and then Phoebe led her behind the nearby flower arrangement. “Oh, Emily.” She hugged her. Not even in her wildest dreams could she have pictured Lady Bloxley responding so well. “You were marvelous.”

Emily blinked with surprise. “Lady Bloxley is no dragon at all.”

Phoebe raised her hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “If you only knew. Three quarters of the young ladies in this ballroom would never dare approach her. Your guileless nature enabled her to see right away that you are just as good as your mother must have been.”

“Perhaps it helped that I love Mother’s roses.”

“Yes. And that you have already conquered your dragon brother.”

It was Emily’s turn to laugh. “I thought he was a Spartan soldier.”

“That all depends,” Phoebe said. “Is he breathing fire yet?”

Emily peeked out from around the flowers. “No flames to be seen, but he is heading this way.”

“Come.” Phoebe grabbed her hand and pulled her out of their hiding spot. Without looking around, she hurried across the dance floor and away from the baron. “He cannot reclaim you yet. Lady Bloxley has just thrown open the door; you have more people to meet.”

Chapter 13

Adam came to a stop as Miss Hadford burst out from behind the flowers and raced away with Emily in tow. What on earth was she up to? Against his better judgment, he’d let Emily go with her. Had either of them even been aware of the stir they had caused walking the length of the ballroom together? All heads had turned to watch them go by. Whispered conversations and reproving looks had followed. Adam did not mind the snubs for himself. If this was the price to pay for ignoring Society for five years, so be it, but he hated to see Emily suffer because of a decision he had made.

He had continued watching, biding his time until he’d seen the look of fear on his sister’s face as they’d approached Lady Bloxley. That had been too much, and he had immediately set out to rescue her. Now, however, Miss Hadford was making saving Emily infinitely more difficult by cutting across the dance floor mid-dance. It was the height of impropriety; even he knew that, and yet she had done it without hesitation. Releasing a frustrated breath, he took the longer route around the room.

By the time he circumvented the dancers and Miss Hadford was once more in view, Emily was out of sight. He passed the refreshment table and the musicians without sparing either a second look, and then he saw her. Emily was standing behind another young lady in a yellow gown. She turned her head to listen to something a dark-haired gentleman said, and then she laughed. Adam’s feet slowed.

He watched as Miss Hadford introduced Emily to two more gentlemen. They bowed politely, and Emily smiled. From beyond the cluster of people now surrounding his sister, Miss Webb and Miss Chapman appeared. They walked stiffly past, their faces averted. Miss Webb glanced at Miss Chapman doubtfully. Miss Chapman responded by raising her chin. The uppity gesture infuriated Adam, but then he saw Miss Hadford. She was also watching the two young ladies. But the look in her eyes was not anger; it was sorrow. He relaxed his clenched fists. Miss Hadford was in the right. If Miss Webb and Miss Chapman chose to ignore Emily, it was their loss.

Behind him, the music ended. The guests clapped their approval, and the room became a mass of movement. Couples came and went, and when the space between him and Miss Hadford and Emily finally cleared, both young ladies were gone. In a moment of panic, he scanned the crowd. A flash of turquoise caught his eye on the dance floor, and as the first notes of the allemande began again, he saw Emily standing beside the dark-haired gentleman. This would be the first time his diffident sister would perform the dance outside Dunsbourne Manor’s drawing room, and yet she was beaming. Miss Hadford stood near her, partnered with a white-wigged gentleman. As Adam watched, Miss Hadford met his eyes. Warmth filled his chest. She had worked this miracle for Emily; it had been her doing from start to finish. Unbidden, a smile parted his lips, but she was already gone, skipping down the dance floor beside her partner.

Adam stood alone. To his right, a small group of young men were laughing over something. He made out the words Oxford and prankster and gathered they were recounting a recent escapade. He had lived in that world once. It seemed incredibly far removed now. A couple of young ladies walked past but spared him no glance.

“Having difficulty finding a willing dance partner, Dunsbourne?”

Adam recognized the cocky voice without having to turn around. Derrick Webb had been a couple years behind him at Eton but had somehow always managed to weasel his way into the older boys’ events—particularly if they’d involved high-stakes card games. One year, he had walked away with Wilbur Barlow’s entire unopened Christmas package, claiming the prefect was a chump for betting it all on a game he could not win. Webb may have thought he’d been the victor that day, but as far as Adam was concerned, it had been further proof that the young man was nothing more than an also-ran.