The Hopeless Hoyden by Margaret Bennett Read Free Book Online

remarked acidly.  Then, one sausage index finger encased in gray kid leather slowly rose to point at Emily.  "That is the problem!"

    ***  Chapter 3  ***
     
                  Mortified, Emily remained rooted to the spot.  Before she could utter a sound or Lady Esmeralda Spivey could say another word, Gabriel was at Emily's side.  He offered Emily the support of his arm as he drew her in the midst of the group surrounding Lady Spivey. 
                  “I had no idea you were acquainted with my guest, Lady Spivey."  His brown gaze locked on the old lady's faded gray eyes while he squeezed Emily's hand to reassure her.  "I, of course, was delighted when Miss Pendleton consented to join us."
                  “Er...yes, Miss Pendleton is my niece."  Fluttering one hand about, Lady Spivey's eyes flew from Gabriel to Emily.  “What a naughty gel you are, Emily dear.  You never told me you would be here."  The old lady's laugh sounded forced and brittle as she turned to the young girl standing next to her.  "You remember my goddaughter, Lady Burke-Whites gel, Prudence?"  At last able to resort to her vinaigrette, she sank back into the cushions of the gold and cream striped sofa and allowed Lindemann to make the rest of the introductions.
              While Lady Raines remained tight-lipped, regarding Emily with a disgusted expression, much to Gabriel's relief the others pretended to take no further notice of the incident.  The moment he saw the color drain from his wood nymph's face, he'd put two and two together.  Recalling Freddy's recounting of Lady Spivey's niece, Gabriel could easily envision Emily gliding around a foyer to the enchanting strings of a waltz with not a thought to the social consequences.  Better than anyone else, he knew the rigid strictures imposed on debutantes of the beau monde would be too confining an atmosphere for one of her spirit.
                  Gabriel introduced the gentlemen, both friends of Lord Fordyce.  Mr. Ellison Trumbell was as fair as Freddy was red and also shared his cousin's penchant for foppish mannerisms.  Emily blinked when Mr. Trumbell rose from his bow.  Somehow she had missed his brilliant yellow and puce waistcoat under his kelly green jacket and brown breeches.
                  Mr. Harry Chesterfield was the more dashing of the trio.  Though average in looks, his athletic build and crisp neat attire attracted feminine glances.  However, the more eligible debutantes of the ton turned elsewhere when looking for a husband since Chesterfield was the fourth son of an earl.
                  Although grateful for the Viscount's support, what Emily really wanted was to make herself invisible in a corner of the cavernous room.  She did just that at the first possible moment.  Fortunately, no one paid her the least mind for the rest of the day, which suited her just fine. 
                  After the new arrivals were duly fussed over and settled, it was time to dress for dinner, and Emily still tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.  When she entered the drawing room, dressed in a soft white silk gown with a high-waisted red sash, she caught sight of the Viscount's gaze following her more than once as she gravitated to a corner couch to sit with Miss Tabor.
                  At the table, Emily was placed between her aunt, who kindly ignored her, and Harry Chesterfield, who kept turning the topic.  First it was the theater, next Almack's, then the balls he'd attended.  All represented places a young debutante would go during a London Season.  Thus, those near to Emily were reminded of her blighted past.  Yet, Emily felt sympathy for him when, after the third remove, he gave her a stricken look when he realized his blunder before turning to Deborah Caldwell on his other side.  Chesterfield, at least, had meant well, and Emily appreciated his kind