Colors of a Lady (3 page)

“It certainly is the point. I was nearly a
success last night having danced more than I did last Season.” Emma
grimaced as the comb scraped against her scalp.

“But?”

“Lord Hartwell was present. He was the first
to dance with me; however, it is only because Caroline asked
him.”

Mary ceased her ministrations. “At least you
were able to dance with him.”

“You are correct.” She looked down to her
hands. “I felt like a child again…like we were back at Kellaway
Castle and it was summertime…”

“I remember those days.”

Emma straightened her shoulders as Mary
twisted her hair into a simple knot. She stared at her reflection.
She looked the same as ever, but her stomach churned at the
memories of last night. Years had passed since they had last
spoken. He was a man and she was on the cusp of womanhood. When he
left they were but children.

“They will surely marry, do you not think?”
Emma heard herself ask.

“So it seems.”

“Then I shall have to find a husband far
superior to Lord Hartwell.”

“They may not marry at all. Lady Wren is so
fickle in love. Why there have been numerous men who have asked for
her hand in marriage.”

The two settled into a companionable silence
as Mary added pins to further secure Emma's hair. Her mistress
opened her mouth to regale her with a tale when the door to the
chamber burst open. The Lady of the House rushed in, immaculately
garbed for the morning hour. Her fair hair was done up in such an
intricate fashion, she must have been at her toilette for hours.
But, Lady Sheridan was a devout follower to dressing for her
station. There was no smile upon the face that was a mature twin to
Caroline's youthful one. It was easy to see how Lord Sheridan fell
in love with his wife and still lived in relative happiness with
her.

“Emma,” she began magnanimously. Her blue
eyes flicked to Mary, a frown tugging at her lips. The maid needed
no further instruction. She curtsied to the ladies and then
shuffled out of the room.

“Good morning, mother,” greeted Emma, bowing
her head. Emma remained seated at her vanity, carefully watching
her mother. Constance paced the room, shaking her head.

“You, daughter, have received a marriage
proposal,” her voice was heave with dread as she relayed the news.
Lady Sheridan had hoped to be spreading this joyful news with
Caroline, not Emma. The girl did not even have the grace to cry to
shriek with joy. She stared as if in a daze. “What do you have to
say?”

“Who is it?” she asked, her hands grasping
one another in her shocked state. “I can scarcely recall anyone
form last night, mother.” Except for Lord Hartwell, she added to
herself. Mother should not be privy to that tidbit.

“I am certain sure you shall remember this
man,” replied the Lady Sheridan. She proffered an ivory card to her
daughter who accepted it with trepidation. She held the card near
her face to read the name.

“Thomas Black, Marquess of Hartwell.... oh
dear, Mother, this cannot be right,” Emma muttered, dropping the
card to the carpet. To the best of her knowledge, he was in love
with her sister. Her gorgeous, charming sister. Lord Hartwell did
not want to wed Emma. The little girl who used to beg him to read
to her on Christmas Eve during those cold winters of their
youth.

Lady Sheridan looked at her daughter, the
one she had never expected. The one with whom she was always too
strict. Emma needed to work much harder at being a lady than the
other girls in the ton. She shook her head and moved to leave the
room.

“At last we agree on something.” She stopped
in the doorway. “Your betrothed will be calling upon you sometime
this week. Caroline is distraught at the news. Do not lord this
over her.”

Emma heard the door click as her mother left
her. She fell back onto her chaise lounge.

“This means, then,” she whispered to no one.
“I will be a Duchess?” The title filled the empty room with all the
duties it implied. The responsibility weighed upon Emma's mind,
teasing her with the prospect of so great a match. This proposal
encompassed all that she desired. To achieve it at the expense of
Caroline's happiness left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She was
not deserving of such an honour as to marry a future duke. There
was little to be done to recompense with her sister. She would be
heartbroken. What of Lord Hartwell? Was he pleased? Emma scoffed at
the absurdity she had dared to even entertain. He was more than
likely ruing the moment he obeyed the wish of Caroline.

“You are marrying Lady
Emma?” asked Nathaniel Vale, Earl of Hedgeton. Exceedingly tall
with burnished gold hair, he had been Thomas Blake's best friend
since their Eton days. The two had met at their club that afternoon
as they did every day during the Season. Today, Thomas was bursting
with urgent news. He squinted his green eyes at his friend, who was
drowning his sorrows in a glass of claret.

“The lesser of the Wren sisters,” he
announced dejectedly. Thomas ran a hand through his hair to shove
it out of his eyes. “This betrothal had been in the works for many
years, according to my father. As you know, our families are old
friends. My father is ecstatic.”

“His Grace would be. He adores Lady Emma,”
Nathaniel said, trying his best to be hopeful. “You did too once.”
He waved away the servant who was returning to fill Thomas' glass.
His dark-haired friend shook his head. He was not open to hope or
happy endings today.

“So I did. That was ages ago. Before we left
on the Grand Tour. I even fancied marrying her back then…”

“And then we returned and suddenly Caroline
is all you saw,” Nathaniel added.

“She brightened up London like the sun,” he
replied wistfully. He clutched his glass tightly. “Alas, it is Lady
Emma who shall be my bride. The dark moon to her sister’s sun.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes at his friend's
single-minded affinity towards Caroline Wren. He had not known the
sisters as long as Lord Hartwell. While Caroline had her charm, he
had always found Emma to be far more intriguing. She had more
layers to her. She was mysterious like the moon. But did the moon
only have to be mysterious? Did the sun only have to be blinding?
Both girls were more than these simple metaphors.

The earl remembered a time when Thomas' lips
talked more of Emma and her laugh, but that was before the girls
were old enough to debut. Once Caroline came out in Society, his
mouth praised her sly smile and flaxen hair.

“Well, Tom, you are at least on friendly
terms with Lady Emma. She is pleasant and intelligent. It is not as
if you will be marrying a dunce.”

“You speak wise words, my friend. Will she
make a good duchess though? Caroline would have looked exquisite in
my mother's jewels.”

“It takes more to being a duchess than
simply wearing jewels well. Besides, the jewels are emeralds, if I
recall correctly. Emma looks beautiful in greens. Did she not look
so last night?”

The blond waited, eyebrows raised, for his
friend's reply. Perhaps, he could lead Thomas away from Caroline.
Doubtless, that woman was already planning which bachelor should
have the honour of courting her next. Caroline was quite
resourceful and seemed to not care one whit about marriage. Emma,
however, had often spoken of setting up her own house and own
rules. Lord Sheridan had certainly chosen a good husband for her in
that case. Thomas was an easy-going sort. Plus the homes of the
Duke of Kellaway were in desperate need of a feminine hand.

“You are correct as usual, Nathaniel. My
betrothed is lovely and practical. She is no Caroline, but not many
women can be.” With a second sigh, he downed his class of claret.
“I shall have to call on my fiancée soon. We are to ride in Hyde
Park.”

You would do well to not call upon your
future wife in your cups. I do also hope you will be civil to
her.”

“Nathaniel, I am no cad! I have honour and
decency. I will not treat her badly.”

“This I know well. But it does warm my
bachelor's heart to hear. She is like a little sister to me.”

“That is why you are singing her praises! I
had almost thought for a second you envied my position,” Thomas
accused. The thought was preposterous for Thomas was aware of
Nathaniel's affection for Miss Alice Mallory.

“Perhaps a bit, old friend,” Nathaniel
replied with a shrug. Getting married was a necessary evil. So
having a bride like Emma whom he knew well was not so bad. She was
beautiful so the marital duties would not be hard to fulfill.
Perhaps this was not what he should be considering on the day of
his best friend's betrothal. He turned his thoughts to more
practical matters.

“When is this grand occasion to be? I am
sure that the ton will be out in full force to attend the wedding
breakfast.”

“Oh yes, I do believe it is to be a bit
rushed though not until the spring. I am not at all sure why. Then,
my father wants us to stay on the Continent after the honeymoon to
take care of some business.” Though Thomas had momentarily resolved
to be resigned to his fate, there was a sadness that tugged at him,
reminding him that he was going to be marrying Emma not Caroline.
The hair that would drape across his chest every morning for the
rest of his life would be nearly as dark as his own. Any children
they had would have untamed curls and a golden laugh.

From where did that thought arrive? He had
always been amused by Emma's laugh. Today was not the day to think
of his betrothed. He was going to remember his beloved, Caroline.
He would become a martyr of true love. It was to be his destiny.
Besides, he reasoned rationally and dishonourably, it was not at
all uncommon for men of his rank to take a mistress. Lady Emma
would have to know her place. Many women were reared that way to
accept any infidelities. Lord Hartwell was nearly certain that his
betrothed would not be so amenable. He, too, would find the upkeep
of both a wife and mistress too much to bear.

Suddenly, he was struck with a memory from
years ago over Christmas. That year it had been a small Christmas
with just Lord and Lady Sheridan, Emma, Caroline, Lord Hartwell and
his father. Emma was about seven and so he was twelve. It was a few
days before Christmas Day and the men were preparing to go on a
quick hunt. They desired some outside activity and were willing to
brave the winter chill. Emma, however, was absolutely determined to
go along with the men. Lady Sheridan was even more shrill back then
and implored her daughter to remain behind.

“It is not acceptable for a young lady of
breeding,” she repeated. Her protests did not affect her daughter
one whit Emma ignored her mother and insisted that she was too high
of a rank to be touched by such rumours. Besides...

“Mother, I am seven and we live in the
country. Who among us is going to spread my participation to the
great lords and ladies in London?” Lady Sheridan opened her mouth.
Then closed it. Her mouth opened, trying to think of a retort. Then
closed. Emma was a force. She refused to have her hair dressed by
her maid, preferring to let it hang down her back in wild curls.
Emma stood, hands on her hip, waiting for her mother's reply. She
was perhaps too quick-witted for her mother who often gave her what
she wanted to simply stop the arguing. It gave her headaches. Emma
was never one to back down. She would quarrel until the opposing
side admitted she was right.

Finally, his father let out a loud laugh. He
was jolly when most expected dukes to be stoic. His hair, at this
point, was still black and curly, devoid of the streaks of white it
developed over time. He knelt down by Emma and ruffled her hair.
She offered him a demure smile.

“Oh my, the little one does make a point. I
shall not tell a soul about this adventure. Let her join us. The
winter air is good for children. She must be bundled up
though.”

Since no one would dare rebuke a Duke, Emma
got her way. She skipped happily up the stairs towards her room.
Her maid, Mary, followed her closely. Lord Sheridan let out a
breath, chuckling to himself at his younger daughter.

“She's such a delight,” Kellaway said with a
laugh. “There's a wife for you, huh?” He teased, elbowing his son.
At twelve, Thomas was not thinking at all about marriage,
especially with a child such as Emma. He was almost a man and she
too much growing up to do. Besides, he enjoyed being right just as
much as she, which often lead to heated discussions. Well, as
heated as disputes amongst children can get.

“Emma is nothing but a child, father. I will
marry a woman when the time comes,” he replied with a scoff.

“Emma marry a Duke's son? Oh no, that shall
have to be Caroline.” Lady Sheridan cut in, devoid of manners as
always. At this point in their lives, Caroline was less noticed
than Emma. They were but a year or two apart in ages. Caroline's
beauty had not reached the brilliance it would once she started
blossoming into a woman.

Then, once it did, Caroline would eclipse
Emma in attention. Lord Hartwell remembered the change quite well.
Every Christmas season, Caroline burned brighter and became more
alive. While Emma became more reserved, losing her sparkling
wit.

He accounted it to Caroline's burgeoning
beauty having an effect on her sister's confidence. Now he wondered
whether it was the governess who insulted her dark skin or her
mother who demanded efforts that were superior to perfect. He had
never reflected on it much. It was just how the Wren sisters were.
Few remembered the tiny spitfire that Emma used to be. Though, it
seemed, Duke Kellaway had certainly kept her in his mind.

Thomas shook his head in surprise. His
father's hope was coming true after all. At least he would be happy
with this union.

Nathaniel had departed while his friend was
daydreaming. He was sure to see him tonight or before that in Hyde
Park. The fashionable were often in Hyde Park and this included the
slew of bachelors still searching for appropriate wives. With his
friend gone, Lord Hartwell called for another drink. He truly had
not had many and it eased his mind about his meeting with his
fiancée.