Julia Justiss - The Awakening Of Miss Henley

Recalling her recommendation that he take up a career as a Royal Mail coachman, he laughed softly. That humour faded as he went on to wonder just how loud a peal her mama would ring over her for dismissing Mr Null. Fortunately, he was reasonably certain that no matter how roundly she was abused, the pressure applied by her mama would be more likely to push her into finally declaring that independence she kept telling him she meant to seek than to capitulation and acceptance of the numbing sterility of an arranged marriage.

It really was a shame that society offered so few options for intelligent, clever women. He could easily see Emma Henley taking a seat in Parliament, arguing for the causes about which she’d told him she’d been writing letters.

He shifted uncomfortably. Recalling her desire to do something important, to make a difference, touched too closely on the festering sore deep within which, though covered over by a dressing of busyness and society’s acclaim, had never completely healed.

Although they were not nearly as hemmed in by rules and conventions as females, the opportunities for well-born young men to ‘do something important’ were also limited.

As a younger son, he would never inherit the responsibility for managing his family’s various estates or providing for the welfare of their tenants. Though he enjoyed books, he felt no call to retreat into scholarship, and though he dabbled in investments, a gentleman never dirtied his hands dealing with money. Nor had he any taste for engaging in the push and pull of politics that so fascinated Miss Henley.

Only one thing fired in him the sort of enthusiasm he glimpsed in that lady and it was as impossible a career for a gentleman as standing for Parliament was for a woman.

Sighing, he glanced down at the writing paper on the desk before him. Almost of their own accord, his hands set aside the pen and inkwell and rummaged in the drawer for a pencil.

Quickly he sketched the silhouette of a lady bent over her side saddle, urging on her galloping horse. He added hash marking and shading, the bend of the delicate feather in her riding hat against the rush of wind. The stance, and the hat, obscured her face, but he had no trouble envisaging it: the long, pale oval, rather prominent, determined chin, the unexpected sensual lips. And those eyes! What a transformation they underwent, when she escaped from the conventional trivialities of social conversation!

He ought to do a sketch just of her face, to portray the fire that illumined those eyes once she began to speak about something that truly interested her. How they lit up her face, changing it from forgettable to arresting! Better still, he should do a study in oils, to be able to capture their mesmerising gold-green hue.

Adding a few more quick pencil strokes, he finished his equestrienne sketch and studied it, nodding his satisfaction.

One more useless skill I possess, about which you don’t yet know , he told her silently. Else you might recommend that, should I lose my fortune, I take up work as a portrait painter.

Restoring the pencil, quill and unused paper to its place in the drawer, he rose, sketch in hand, and walked towards the door. He’d enjoy a fine dinner and then, ‘timid soul’ that he was, avoid the society entertainments he’d meant to attend in favour of a few pleasant rounds of cards and brandy.

Pausing before the fireplace, he gave the sketch one more glance, smiling again at the vibrant energy that was Emma Henley. But it wouldn’t be wise to subject himself to the enquiry and abuse that would result, should any of the other members discover him carrying around a sketch of a society lady.

With regret, he tossed the paper into the fire and strode out of the room.

Pausing in the doorway to the card room, Theo surveyed the occupants, looking for a group that would provide both stimulating play and agreeable company. Spotting a friend from his Oxford days, Theo strolled over.

‘Ready for a game, Kensworth?’ he asked.

‘Ah, Lord Theo, just the man I hoped to see,’ Kensworth said, gesturing him to a seat. ‘I’m about to head out, but I did want a quiet word with you.’

Theo felt a flicker of concern. ‘Is something wrong? An illness in your family?’

‘No, nothing of that sort. It’s…something else entirely.’ Looking suddenly uncomfortable, Kensworth hesitated, sipping from the glass of port beside him.

‘Well, out with it,’ Theo said, both amused and curious. ‘Have I flirted too blatantly with a lady you covet? Bought a horse you had your eye on?’

‘No, this is about…your welfare. I saw you this morning, galloping in Hyde Park with Miss Henley. Just the two of you, no groom anywhere in sight. Now, I’ll grant you that she appears to be a fine horsewoman, but I do wonder what else you see in her. Plain as a doorpost, with a tongue caustic enough to strip the varnish off your carriage.’

Theo managed to choke down a heated defence of Emma Henley’s looks and wit. Forcing himself back into the role of careless courtier, he said in a bored tone, ‘She is clever for all that. One never knows what she will say. I find her amusing.’

‘You’d better watch that you don’t “amuse” yourself right to the altar! Riding alone in the park with her? You run a terrible risk!’

‘It might be, were she interested in marriage, which fortunately she is not. And she did bring her groom.’ He chuckled. ‘She’d just out-galloped him.’

‘I’d be careful in any event. Miss Henley may claim not to be interested in marriage, although—’ Kensworth gave a derisive sniff ‘—I never believe any female who utters such rubbish! But you can be sure that mother of hers is. Been pushing the chit at every remotely eligible gentleman these last five years!’

Theo didn’t need Kensworth’s warning to know he must be very circumspect about how and when he met Emma Henley. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m well aware of the need for caution.’

‘I should hope so. Wouldn’t want to see you start down a slippery slope! Enough about the depressing topic of wedlock. How do you intend to “slip out of” this latest contretemps with Lady Belinda? Granted, she’s beautiful and has most luscious bosom I’ve ever ogled, but her behaviour…’

If it diverted Kensworth’s attention from Miss Henley, Theo was happy to talk about his latest scandal. ‘Her conduct, this time, is truly beyond the pale. Indeed…’ he made a show of consulting his pocket watch ‘…she should by now have received a bouquet and a pair of fine sapphire and diamond earrings.’

Kensworth’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You’ve given her her congé, then! So the field is open.’

‘All yours,’ Theo replied, gesturing towards him.

‘Not mine!’ Kensworth replied, holding out a hand palm-up. ‘I’ll stick with demi-mondaines who know their place! Sapphire and diamonds, you say? In the end, I’d wager the muslin company is less expensive. But you’ve always had a preference for the exclusive. So, who will be next?’

The image of Emma Henley’s fierce, challenging gaze flashed into his head. Firmly he suppressed it. ‘I think I shall allow the bad taste left in my mouth after the incident with Lady Belinda to dissipate before I contemplate any new liaisons.’

‘Well, you can’t wait too long. A man has needs, after all! Let me add one more recommendation for the professionals. A high-flyer knows which side her bread is buttered on and will never turn up in some public place, embarrassing you in full view of society.’

‘Thank you, but, no. I shall console myself with cards and brandy, and call it a good night.’