Emily somehow managed a nod. It must have been enough, for Imogen gave her a smile and walked from the room with the two younger women.
Leaving Emily alone with her panicked thoughts.
She was thankful that they had left her in that moment, for her control over her emotions was rapidly deteriorating. London. Why had she forgotten Daphne’s debut in London next spring? Emily had never had a Season, had never wanted one. But Daphne was different. She was beautiful and vivacious and had been looking forward to her debut for as long as Emily could remember.
Emily couldn’t begin to contemplate what going to London would be like. Being here at a house party with nearly two score of people, most of whom she didn’t know, was bad enough. She thought of that episode in the front hall, the feeling of terror that had nearly sent her into a swoon, and knew it would be worse—so much worse—in town.
There would be hundreds, if not thousands, of people in London. Every ball no doubt packed to the rafters with the noble elite and their desire for perfection. Then there were the dinner parties, the musicales, trips to the theatre and Almack’s, rides in the park. The list went on and on, endless opportunities to be surrounded by people who would gawk at her, giving her those looks of pity and horror. Making her panic until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think...
Spots began to swim in her vision. Emily let out a shaky breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.
Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back furiously. Look at her. Just contemplating going to London, and she’d nearly been overtaken. How much worse would it be to actually be there? In the middle of her own private hell.
No. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t go. She would rather die.
Well, she conceded, perhaps not quite so extreme. Even so, the desire to remain far, far away from that illustrious city was strong. She would not have even considered going had Daphne not begged her. Surely her sister would not insist on it now. She must see how horrifying such a situation would be for Emily and release her from her promise.
She set her jaw, determined to beg off from the trip. As soon as she was able, she would search out Daphne and put an end to this mad scheme of a trip once and for all.
• • •
“Your sister very nearly fainted in the front hall.”
Malcolm had not meant the words to come out so accusatory, but his frustration over seeing Lady Emily in such distress had left a bad taste in his mouth. Truly, her fear of being around people went well past mere shyness and straight on to debilitating.
Willbridge looked at him sharply. “Is she well?”
“Yes, though it was a near thing. Truly, why didn’t you tell me the extent of her problem? This changes everything.”
Willbridge glanced about the billiard room, at the congregation of men who had escaped from the forced company of the women. Several of the guests peered at them, their curiosity palpable. With a quick jerk of his head, Willbridge indicated they should leave. Pressing his lips together in frustration, Malcolm nodded and followed his friend from the room. Men were as bad as women with gossip, he knew.
They made their way to the sunken garden at the west side of the house. Willbridge strode to the bubbling fountain at the center, no doubt in an attempt to disguise their voices should anyone happen by. What they had to discuss would not ruin the girl but would certainly bring unwanted attention to her.
For a long moment Willbridge looked at the water falling into the stone pool. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “I have told you she has retreated into herself, that she is painfully shy. Even I, however, did not expect that, when confronted with so many people, she would faint.”
Willbridge was being truthful, that much was plain. His distress was palpable. Instantly Malcolm regretted confronting his friend in such a manner and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But she did not. I was there and managed to get her away before she could be overcome.”
A muscle worked in his friend’s jaw before, with a sigh, he dragged a hand over his face. “And I thank God you were there, Morley,” he murmured. “More than you know.”
Well, hell, Malcolm thought. Here he had been about to beg to be released from his promise to watch over the girl, and now this. He let his hand drop back to his side, looking out over the sunken garden and seeing not a bit of it.
Lady Emily’s plight touched him in ways he had not thought possible. She had been truly terrified there in the front hall. And, much to his surprise, as he had looked into her eyes and seen the extent of her fear, something in him long thought dead had been awakened. A deep, primal protectiveness had come roaring to life.
That would not do at all.
He prided himself on his ability to stay aloof. Caring was messy, leaving heartbreak behind more often than not. The only reason he had allowed the closeness to continue with Willbridge and Tristan was their history with him. When everyone else in his life had broken promises and betrayed him, those two alone had stood strong.
Even so, there was always something there between them—a wall that not even they could scale.
It had become clear to him that no matter the history you shared with someone, they inevitably let you down. First with his parents, who had died when Malcolm was so young. Then his uncle, who had taken in Malcolm and his brother when they had been orphaned. He had treated them no better than stones in his shoe.
But it had been that final betrayal that had left the deepest scar. His love for Lydia had been so great he had opened himself up to trusting again. And his reward had been unimaginable pain.
Now there was Lady Emily, whose uncertainty and sadness pulled at his heart. When he had witnessed her in such distress in the midst of the crowd, it had not been Willbridge or the blasted promise Malcolm had given him that had been foremost in his mind. He had thought only of her, had wanted to shelter her from everyone and get her to safety. It had taken all his willpower not to go charging through the sea of people like an enraged bull.
The feelings that had cropped up in him at the sight of Lady Emily in distress had made him positively furious with himself. So much so that, once again, he had taken his anger out on her.
He should not have. It was badly done of him. But she had not cowered from him, he realized. He pursed his lips as he thought of it. No, the moment he had shown the least bit of meanness to her—and to his shame that had been nearly every word he had spoken to her thus far—she had shown surprising backbone. She had not railed at him as he deserved. And he truly did deserve it for being such an arse to her. But she had held her own. He wondered if there was more to her than anyone, herself included, realized. Perhaps Willbridge was right, in that the stifling protectiveness her family had shown her over the past decade had done more harm than good. Never mind watching over her, seeing she wasn’t in distress, giving her attention to bolster her confidence. No, mayhap the girl needed a push, something to fight against. Let her see that she could handle things herself, that she was strong and able.
