Music sheets were rather an expensive commodity, but Emma had never allowed that to dissuade her from enjoying the pianoforte. She had, whenever the opportunity presented itself, scribbled down and copied music into her notebook before returning the borrowed sheets to whichever of her friends or family had loaned them to her in the first place.
Always an early riser, unlike her sister, she had taken to practicing Robin Adair this morning before breakfast in the hopes that she might have a moment alone with her uncle. It was his habit to answer his business letters in this very room of a morning, for it was well-lit and comfortable, and so Emma waited while she ran her fingers gaily across the keys with deft precision.
At length, her uncle entered the drawing room — ever the predictable sort — and, careful not to disturb her playing, seated himself at his rosewood Davenport to mend his pen. When she stopped to make notes in her journal, he released a heavy sigh that drew her attention.
"Oh do play something a little more sedate, Emmaline. Tis far too early for your Irish airs!" Her uncle could by no means be mistaken for a morning person, but his ornery insistence provoked only an impertinent smile from Emma that her uncle chose to ignore.
"Of course, uncle," she replied sweetly, turning to face him. "But first I would speak with you a moment."
He looked up with a raised brow and then placed his pen at rest as he regarded her archly. "You, no doubt, wish to know about Lord Winterly," said he, guessing her intentions immediately.
"I do. You recognized his name..."
"That I did, but I know him in name only, for I had not met him before last night."
"Please do not be reticent, uncle. Certes, I have a right to seek out any information I can about the man who saved my life; do not you agree?"
He seemed to mull the thought over some small length of time, resting one knee over the other as he folded his arms and made himself more comfortable. It was purposefully done; Emma stifled a giggle and allowed him to think he had affected her patience.
"I say, uncle, I suspect you take delight in teasing me." She narrowed her eyes at him with a playful wag of her finger.
"What does an old man live for but to vex those he loves." He winked at her and then relented. "Very well, child. But I fear you will be disappointed. I know very little of the man."
"Any little will suffice," she assured him.
"I have heard his name in some of my business dealings. You must know by now that I do not make it a point to acquaint myself with any gossip appertaining to the ton in general; I care little for that sort of thing, but I have found it advantageous to keep abreast of matters of a political nature. Lord Winterly is, in fact, the Right Honorable, Vicount Winterly..." Her uncle waited expectantly for Emma to show some sign of understanding, but was rather disappointed when she remained silent, her brow puckered in thoughtful confusion.
"I have never heard of him."
"I suppose not," he needled her facetiously; before admitting his own limited knowledge. "In truth, I myself know very little about the man except from what I hear through my business associates in the teashops — damn intrusive lot." Robert Haywood tapped his mouth thoughtfully. "He seems to guard his private life rather jealously, but, again, you know I care very little for the nobility and their affairs."
"Yes, you did mention that." Twice, in fact.
He yawned audibly and glanced thoughtfully at the grandfather clock in the corner. "I flatter myself that if I were a member of White's I might know a little more, but you know I cannot bear the company of gamesters!"
Not that he would ever be admitted within that proud and privileged inner sanctum. The patrons of that notorious gentleman's club were of an exclusive sort consisting mostly of either aristocrats or the very affluent. There could really be no doubt that it was an establishment of which Lord Winterly was an esteemed member.
"But does he live in London?"
"I believe he owns a townhouse in Mayfair, but I cannot recall the exact location of their country estate. Somewhere in Yorkshire if I'm not mistaken. Very strange family, I daresay."
"How do you mean?"
"I do not know the particulars, my dear, but I believe there was quite a scandal a few years ago. Best not dwell on it, I say.
"What kind of scandal!" she cried.
However, her uncle waved his hand in a dismissive fashion, drawing the conversation to a very unsatisfactory conclusion. "As I said, I do not know the specifics; furthermore, most of it is like as not merely hearsay spread by rumormongers." He stood from his writing desk and scrutinized his pocket watch a moment, ostensibly to confirm that the time corresponded accurately with the tall clock striking the hour of nine.
"Excellent," he declared, before returning the timepiece to his waistcoat. "Come, my dear; it is time for breakfast!" With that he rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.
"Indubitably," she groused quietly, though she needn't have bothered for he wouldn't have heard her lest she shouted. And I am hardly much the wiser. All she had managed glean from her uncle was the nature of Lord Winterly's title and that he, like almost every other gentleman, was a private man.
She surmised, testily, that her uncle was never late for anything, least of all a meal! That he should conclude their discussion in favor of his breakfast, was no surprise to his niece.
Robert Haywood was not rotund exactly, but his figure was not that of a man who deprived himself of aught. The buttons straining at his waistcoat were more than ample proof of his love of good wine and rich fare. But to be thwarted by her uncle's grumbling stomach was most vexing indeed, but she bore it as best she could, shaking her head with a resigned snort.
I could very well set my clock to that stomach.
❅
After breakfast, Milli decided that the ladies ought to enjoy a bit of shopping before returning home to prepare for their evening; their uncle had arranged that they would all enjoy a night out at Astley's Royal Amphitheater to watch a show. However, it was far too lovely a day to be spent indoors, and so Emma readily agreed.
"I meant to replace my spectacles in any event." Emma sat sketching the buildings across the street from the library window as Millicent shut a thick volume with an indelicate yawn.
"I rather you didn't," complained her sister, "for they suite you ill indeed!" Millicent walked up behind her sister and admired the drawing over Emma's shoulder.
"Well, I shouldn't think you'd care; it is not you that shall wear them, my dear."
"Your eyes are not so bad," Milli snorted as she scrutinized the result of her sisters skillful hand. "I think you wear them so that you can hide behind those rebarbative frames and thereby blend with all the rest of the wallflowers. Emma, I forbid your acquiring another pair!" The facetious curve of her sister's grin was wholly effectual in that it provoked Emma's lips to mirror Millicent's.
"Before you make any further demands of me, I suggest you repay the half crown you still owe me, sister."
"I shan't if you threaten to buy spectacles again!" Without preamble, Milli sashayed from the room before Emma could issue a satisfying retort; but not before she bade her sister to make haste, for the carriage had already been ordered for their outing.
By the time the carriage pulled up, their aunt had elected to stay behind instead; and so it was that the two girls, accompanied by the footman, Reid, set off without further ado. They headed west, by way of Fleet Street and the Strand, and finally instructed the coachman to stop at Piccadilly where they alighted in front of Bullocks's Museum.
After spending an hour touring the fantastic exhibits therein, Emma, with her less than enthusiastic sister in tow, continued on to Finsbury Square to peruse the shelves of one of London's most famous bookshops, The Temple Of The Muses. Much to Milli's vocal disgust, they loitered there above an hour.
But even she had admitted to being awed by the beautiful ware room with its cast iron columns. It was by these columns that four circular galleries were supported, bearing book-lined shelves beneath a vast dome, muted daylight pouring in through the cupola at the center.
Once Emma had made her purchases, the ladies then perambulated along the busy London streets, admiring all the the window displays: milliners, tobacconists, linen drapers, mantua-makers, shoemakers, perfumeries, and sundry merchants scattered about the streets. Next they visited Gunter's Confectioners Shop, in Berkeley Square, and thence to the more fashionable districts to admire the villas and mansions that decorated these desirable locations.
The architecture itself enchanted the eldest Miss Lucas, whereas Milli seemed wholly absorbed by the beautiful gowns and headdresses worn by the cream of the society ladies that passed them by. As any tourist might, Emma marveled at the perfect symmetry of some of the terraced townhouses lining the affluent neighborhoods they traversed. Most entryways were framed by two Grecian columns, behind which stood tall, elegant, white-stuccoed facades of exquisite ashlar stonework, adhering to classical characteristics and influences that were so much favored by the rich.
Emma, for her part, found shopping to be a rather onerous endeavor, but she admitted to being quite enamored by the city and had, so far, enjoyed herself thoroughly. Still, it was getting late and, though they had not purchased much, it was time to start heading back to Milk street. However, her sister had other plans.
"Emma, is that not the most beautiful muslin you have ever seen!" Milli cried rapturously, pointing to a white, evening gown of delicately embroidered muslin that hung within view in a dress-maker's boutique. "Oh do let us go inside!"
"Dear Milli, do you not already own a dress exactly like that."
"Upon my word, Emma, how can you be so nonchalant about such vastly superior muslin! I know I shall absolutely die if I do not have this gown!"
"How unfortunate for you." Emma rolled her eyes and caught Reid attempting valiantly to hide his smile. "Do hurry up then."
But Millicent, upon entering the shop, was quickly diverted by a pretty turban and it's variegated plumage. The younger Miss Lucas was not at all circumspect in her exclamations and awe, but, on noticing the cost of the desired item, her felicity quickly waned. Her hopes were then instantly dashed again when she picked up and admired a lovely, blue, silk fan.
"Ten shillings?!" Milli gasped in horror ere she carefully placed the costly piece back whence she'd found it. "I cannot even purchase a fan without being reduced to impecuniosity!"
"My dear, Milli, this is London after all!"
"But did you not see that hat, Emma? I am convinced that I shan't find better feathers anywhere else were I to spend a lifetime trying!"
"There there," said Emma endeavoring — and failing — to hide her mirth, "It may be for the best lest you wish to look as bird-witted as I sometimes fear you are."
It seemed as though their shopping adventure had finally run its course. She would be returning home with a new book and her sister, despite the disappointment she had suffered in the last few minutes, with an elegant pair of gloves, a bandbox containing yet another bonnet, and vastly overpriced muff.
Once they were back outside, they descried an impressive barouche drawn by a pair of four-in-hand that was parked alongside a boot-maker's shop with two footmen of matching livery chatting beside it. The coat of arms emblazoned on the side was that of a large black eagle displayed affronté with its head turned to dexter and wings expanded upwards, filling the silver field of its escutcheon.
The shield was supported either side by two identical, winged serpents — or wyverns — with wings adorned and elevated into a wide arc so that the tips of each creature's bat-like wing met above the shield. Inside the silver banderole at the base, only two words served as the motto: Vitam Aeternam.
"Reid, do you know to which family that coat of arms belongs?"
"No, miss," said he diffidently.
There was no explicable reason why Emma should feel such a sudden, and powerful, urge to know the bearer of that crest, but she felt the need all too keenly. Having made up her mind to discover the owner of the barouche, she crossed the street with every intention of entering the shop, Milli and Reid following closely behind her.
When she had stepped inside Hoby's, Emma scanned the rooms without much hope of knowing who exactly she searched for. However, erelong she perceived that she was being avidly watched, and thus turned to discover whence the strange sensation seemed to emanate.
The source of the impression, she realized, was a tall gentleman — at least he appeared to possess an uncommon length of frame even seated as he was — in the corner of the shop where the light from the window was dimmed an appreciable degree. Nonetheless she nearly gasped at being so boldly stared at, but collected her senses enough to avert her eyes. He, meanwhile, had seemed unconcerned that she'd caught him regarding her so immodestly the while he reposed indolently in his chair, one leg bent over the other with his beaver hat and cane resting on his knee.
"Good Lord! Who is that gentleman, Emma!" Her sister, bless her, had spilled her words with little care as to their volume, the causation of which instantly brought an awkward flush to Emma's cheeks.
"For Heaven's sake, Milli, lower your voice!" There was no doubt in her mind that the stranger had heard them, if the smirk that curled his lips was anything to go by.
The man's features, though excessively grim, were handsomely chiseled and bold; in fact, he wanted only a smile to make him exceedingly attractive. She might have considered him the most handsome of men were it not for the harsh slant of his black brows or the cold glint of those dark eyes. Even the turn of his mouth she considered disagreeable.
His overall effect was an achromatic one, for he was dressed in somber colors, but for his buckskin breeches and ivory neck-cloth. His sooty hair, dense lashes, and tawny skin was so striking that Emma could not resist partaking of another fleeting glimpse.
Though his appearance was, more or less, no different than most any other corinthian she'd seen about town, there was no mistaking her strange reaction to him. He certainly cut a fine, athletic figure in his fashionable attire with his unruly shock of cropped curls, and long sideburns, but Emma doubted it was merely his physical presence that so instantly attracted her. There was a wildness in his brumal gaze that seemed to suggest he was anything but the civilized gentleman he so easily portrayed, and that she found not a little unsettling.
"It is rather romantic, is it not?" Milli whispered loudly.
"What is?" Emma found herself inspecting a pair of shiny Hessians without really looking at them.
"The way he keeps staring at you!"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"How very exciting!" Milli was in complete raptures over the enigmatic stranger.
"It is not romantic whatsoever! But it is utterly shameful." And scandalous! One should think a gentleman would know better. She cast a fugitive gaze over her shoulder to see that he was still watching her intently, his long fingers drumming casually on the arm of the chair he occupied, and then forthwith lowered her eyes back to the uninteresting boots before her. "Besides which, he is more than likely looking at you."
"Do you think me such a wet goose as to mistake the direction of a man's attentive regard? Believe me, if he were looking at me, I'd know it. And why should he not be admiring my sister! You are far prettier than the lady beside him, and more so for you do not realize it!"
But Emma barely heard the latter part of her sister's declaration. She peeked around once more, for she could not forbear inspecting the lady he was evidently accompanied by, having not noticed her there when first she beheld the man.
How could she not have remarked that stunning creature before now? No wonder he glowers at me! When I am to be measured against the angel beside him. "Do not tease me," Emma replied finally. "I am nothing to her."
They watched surreptitiously as the lady leaned down to whisper something into the dark stranger's ear, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glanced over to Milli and Emma. He, however, seemed anything but amused. His mouth only flattened more dourly.
"I am in earnest," Milli assured her sincerely, albeit impatiently. "You are the most handsome woman I know, for your loveliness has depth and is supported from within!"
Whether earnest or not, Emma's beauty, such as it was, was by no means comparable to this creature's.
The lady was decidedly a diamond of the first water and seemed to compliment him perfectly. Her lineaments were gracefully sculpted, framed by golden curls, and her unblemished skin, though as equally pale as Emma's, suited her remarkably well.
She too was richly garbed in the highest fashion, her carmine, silk gown was elegantly embroidered and embellished with scalloped lace edging at the hem and sleeves. It draped beautifully over her lithe frame, which, oddly, prompted Emma to see herself as the dowdy she certainly was by comparison.
She nowise wished to be considered self-deprecating, since another's beauty had never inspired her resentment heretofore, nor would it ever if she could help it! But she did flatter herself that she was at least rational nine times out of ten and that being said, there was naught wrong with being plain — 'twas beneficial to the development of a good character. The world could not very well be populated only with beautiful ornaments...for what then would beauty be but a commonplace and prosaic quality.
However, there was no reason that they should continue loitering in Hoby's when there was no chance of their ever purchasing any boots this day; and the weight of those dark eyes upon her person had by now utterly agitated her nerves into a frenzy. Although, before Emma had chance to suggest they leave, her sister gasped excitedly.
"Oh my!"
"What is it now?" Emma fidgeted with the drawstring of her reticule as a feeling of sharp forbidding settled between her shoulders.
"He's coming this way!"
⭐️Thank you for your votes, support and lovely comments! I will try and update regularly, but hopefully at least every week⭐️