Callander Square - Anne Perry [11]
He remained in the Doran house for two hours, but he learned nothing there either.
Charlotte was perfectly correct, Emily was beginning to find that the fashionable life lacked something, a certain bite, for which she was increasingly developing a taste. Beyond question, she enjoyed her life; it was the ideal mode of existence for her. When she and Charlotte were still at home in Cater Street with Mama and Papa, when poor Sarah was alive, Emily had known precisely what suited her. She had determined from very early in their acquaintance that she would marry Lord George Ashworth; and a very satisfactory arrangement it had proved. Of course George had his faults, but then what man did not? His overriding virtue was that he appreciated her, and was constantly both generous and civil; and he was undoubtedly handsome to look at, and witty when he chose. It would be pleasant if he would gamble a little less, it was a shocking waste of money. But if he flirted, he was eminently discreet about it, and he very seldom went out without inviting Emily also; and he did not nag her as to her occupations or the female society she kept. And that was a considerable point in his favor. Emily knew any number of wives who were forever being left at home while their husbands went to places wholly unsuitable for a woman of any decency at all, and yet criticized them for extravagance or for the afternoon parties they themselves put on.
But undeniably there was a certain lack, a purposelessness to her present round. Since she was Lady Ashworth, she had already done with relative ease all the social climbing she desired, at least for the moment. Charlotte’s disgusting mystery might prove to be just the diversion she required, and it had the additional advantage of being genuinely helpful to someone, if the wretched girl were ever found!
And also, she was very fond of her sister. Of course Charlotte was socially impossible! It would never do to introduce her to the afternoons, the dinners, and the balls she herself attended; although on some of the more pompous occasions she had frequently found it passing through her mind to wonder what Charlotte might have said, had she been there. This affair would also give her an opportunity for them to do something together, which in itself would be pleasant.
When George returned, in time to change for dinner, she abandoned her dignity and scampered up the stairs after him. He turned at the top in surprise.
“What’s the matter?”
“I want to meet Christina Balantyne,” she said immediately.
“Tonight?” He was incredulous, a smile on his elegant mouth. “She’s not all that amusing, I assure you!”
“I don’t want to be amused. I want to be invited to her house, or at least to be able to call without obviously seeking her acquaintance.”
“Whatever for?” His eyebrows went up over his dark eyes. “Is it Augusta you want to meet? Very grand, Augusta. Her father was a duke, and she’s lived up to it all her life; not that it is any effort, I think.”
It was not the reason, but it seemed an excellent explanation to adopt.
“Yes, I would. Please, George?” she smiled at him frankly.
“You’ll be disappointed. You won’t like her,” he looked down with a faint frown.
“I don’t care about liking her, I just want to be able to call!”
“Why?”
“George, I don’t press you about your friends at White’s, or Boodle’s, or wherever it is; let me entertain myself by calling upon whom I please.” She smiled at him with a mixture of charm, because she genuinely liked him, and honesty, because the pretense between them was wholly one of manners, and there was no real deception.
He patted her on the cheek and kissed her.
“It should be easy enough to look up Brandy Balantyne, and he’s an amiable fellow. In fact he’s the best of his family, by a long way. You’ll be disappointed in the others, I warn you!”
“Maybe,” she smiled seraphically, utterly satisfied. “But I wish to discover for myself.”
It was three days before Emily’s plans bore fruit and she was able to dress carefully in muted